Dark Storm Rising
by T.L. Arens
Summary: G1. Earth date 2038. The Quintessons hit Earth with an invasion force from hell. Some Autobots and Humans are lucky enough to escape but they have few allies, no rescources and their leaders are dying.
1. Expelled

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 1  
**Expelled**

**EARTH DATE: JANUARY, 2037**

**LOCATION: UNKNOWN**

Galvatron privately counted twenty-five Earth years. Twenty-five years of drifting, Decepticons fighting among themselves, searching for a way back to Cybertron. But with each space gate that slipped through their fingers, Galvatron's patience grew shorter until he snapped and murdered Mindwipe and Skullgrin with his own two hands. (Well, it was their fault for being there at the time!) He injured thirteen others (fools!) before Cyclonus managed to calm him down. It was all their fault, anyway. The lot of them were losers. Warriors indeed! Hoodlums, thieves, power-hungry opportunists, more likely. Galvatron didn't lead an army, but a host of gutless, depraved cutthroats.

He fumed, staring into the emptiness of space with cold red optics. This whole situation was intolerable! There were Autobots out there who longed to die! There were worlds waiting to be conquered, places which needed to be stamped with the Decepticon symbol of power. And where were they? Dancing through the stars like a lot of robo-pixies! Surely the Autobots were laughing at them, patting themselves on the back, making a toast to the eventual demise of their age-long enemies. And among them, making the loudest noise would be Optimus Prime.

AND HE WAS ALIVE AGAIN!

Galvatron thudded his head so hard, had anyone else been there, they would have cringed. It had to hurt.

It did hurt. It hurt a lot and the great Decepticon leader wished it would dwarf all his other pain. How pathetic! They were the might of the galaxy! They were superior to all other life forms in every way and where were they? Drifting like a group of homeless bozos!

Galvatron slammed his fist into the wall-into the living part of Scorponok itself. He heard it groan. He liked it. He punched it again and the groan turned into a growl. He laughed and punched it again and again and again and again and again and again and again-

"Mighty One, perhaps there is another piece of furniture offensive enough to challenge your-"

"SILENCE!"

It was automatic. His arm swung and Cyclonus went flying through the air, crashing into the wall. That felt good. Someone else was hurting as much as he. Someone else felt the pain and frustration, unable to do anything about it. Galvatron's shadow covered Cyclonus when the doors whooshed open and a trembling Sweep stepped in.

And the blow that would have been (purposely accidentally) missed by Cyclonus went directly for the Sweep, blowing its useless head clear off its shoulders. Its body fell limp and . . . it was just funny. The body fell with a very agreeable THUMP. The head rolled-oh that was precious! It rolled just like a little ball and it kept on rolling all the way down the corridor. Just kept rolling even after the Sweep's companions went chasing after it and . . . it was just funny!

Galvatron laughed and laughed and laughed even when no one else was laughing. So no one else had a sense of humor, SO WHAT? It was funny to him and that's really all that mattered. Galvatron trained his cannon on another Decepticon-Horri-Build or whatever his name was supposed to be. Galvatron hated him because he was a headmaster. And Galvatron really hated Headmasters. Disgusting things, allowing fleshlings to cohabit their bodies, sweating and snotting and drooling and-aarrgh-waste excrement! IN THE CEREBRAL REGION, NO LESS! Foul, putrid, slimy, squishy things! Even Gobots were a slight improvement over flesh creatures! At least Gobots were mostly mechanical, not suffering from sweat and slime! (Of course, Gobots weren't exactly on Galvatron's list of favorite creatures either, not with ORGANIC brains! REVOLTING!)

The Decepticon leader smiled in anticipation of seeing the Headmaster's head roll just like the Sweep's.

BBLLLLAAAAAAAMM!

Everyone slammed into one another and they into the walls along the north side. Groans and whining filled the corridor. Angry shouting and accusations came next. The Decepticons shoved each other away, repelled as though they couldn't stand touching one another. Galvatron shouted obscenities in seven different languages and kicked Horri-bull in the face, punched Swindle three times before giving him a blow, sending him several yards away and fired a harmless shot at Motor Master.

Cyclonus recovered enough to pull his wits together and made sure three other Decepticons stood between he and Galvatron. "Scorponok must've crashed into something."

"RRRRRaaaaagggghhhh! Scorponok! Report status!"

The lights went out, the city no longer moved. Galvatron kicked Motor Master in the rear-end and pointed his cannon at Scourge. "You two! Find out what happened! I want a full report!"

They wasted no time fleeing the scene. Motor Master grumbled something incoherent, limping as he left.

Cyclonus figured Galvatron had cooled enough to talk. He emerged from the shadows and watched as the others pulled themselves together, stepping on selenium eggshells as it were to get away from Galvatron. "It would seem, Mighty One, that the Decepticons are on the verge of mutiny." He warned.

Galvatron pierced him with a glare. "And you would be in the middle of it, Cyclonus. You and Scourge. Humph! Warriors! They can all be recycled or replaced! Right along with this substandard doll house! And what's taking those fools so long! Hurry!"

"Perhaps . . . they have found something of interest and are not willing to share it, my Lord." Cyclonus suggested. He wanted to get Galvatron out of cramped quarters. Perhaps a little room would ease his leader's temper for a while. His ploy worked and he followed Galvatron out of the crashed complex and onto a barren asteroid.

Their boots met a dusty grey ground. The rocky outland groaned under smashed and pitted debris brought by meteors and other space junk. All stood as silent as the windless moment before a great storm.

Scourge approached, his face set with irritation. "It looks like we might be stuck here for a while. Scorponok's navigation controls locked onto a magnetic disturbance here and Zarak is trying to repel it."

Galvatron set his hands on his hip plates. His optics dimmed, but miraculously, he said nothing. He glanced at the desolate surroundings, finding nothing of immediate interest. Nervously his minions watched as he paced alongside the great city in a slow deliberate fashion. He was assessing the situation for himself; one of those rare moments when Galvatron actually seemed more than half-way sane. He returned to Cyclonus and Scourge, his own face set with a calm anger.

"Cyclonus, I want more information on our location. See if there are places around us with useful materials."

Scourge shook his head, "But Mighty Galvatron, Scorponok took readings just before entering the system. He found nothing."

It was not a good thing to say. Scourge found that out the hard way as he went flying through the air and smashed against Scorponok's side. Galvatron's face grew hard. "If I wanted a second opinion from you, Scourge, I'd 've GIVEN it to you! FOOL! I AM IN CHARGE HERE! DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE THE BRAINS REQUIRED-"

"Uh, Galvatron?" Cyclonus intervened.

Galvatron spun around, outraged. "WHAT!" He snapped.

"Uh, I think I've located an energy source. With your permission, I should like to-" Cyclonus saw that 'look' in Galvatron's expression, the type that told him the Decepticon leader had just lost whatever moments of sanity he had and was ready to strike out at anyone, any moment. Cyclonus just momentarily glared at Scourge. He was so stupid! What was it with Scourge, anyway, daring to contest Galvatron's own touchy temper? Rather than continue his sentence, the Decepticon lieutenant took off, hoping his time away would allow him time to think.

Galvatron turned back to see Lord (ha!) Zarak emerge from the giant Transformer. The Nebulan's body walked a bit awkwardly as though the humanoid inside was still unaccustomed to walking. Zarak gazed wordlessly around first then shook his head at the sight of the dent Scourge's body made with the impact.

"Galvatron, the damage to Scorponok is minor. It can be repaired in two to three hours. In the meantime, I think we need to discuss a few things-mainly your behavior of late."

Galvatron's optics narrowed dangerously. He really hated Zarak, but tolerated the miserable flesh creature only because Zarak was Scorponok's brain and Scorponok was indeed a fine piece of work-but Galvatron still hated Zarak and wondered how he could get away with killing the humanoid without creating a fuss among Zarak's loyal friends. "Hah! I am not here to listen to your whining, Zarak." The Decepticon leader snarled. He turned away, aiming for the city entrance.

The doors shut, locking him out entirely.

Galvatron snapped back at Zarak. "Open the doors, Zarak." He growled.

"This is not debatable anymore." Zarak folded his arms in defiance. "From here forward, you will do as I say. I am in command, now Galvatron. You are nothing short of a liability. I have grown tired of your childish behavior and you will cease, or I will be forced to take extreme measures."

"Heheh! Extreme measures! Heh! You!" But Galvatron glowered dangerously. "If it weren't so funny, Zarak, I might have taken you seriously!"

But Zarak wasn't laughing. "It's because of your blatant stupidity we crashed into this asteroid, Galvatron. It's because of your idiocy that we ended half way across the galaxy, light years from Cybertron. It's because of your faulty judgment that we are stranded with no resources. The fault lies with you, Galvatron. I will tolerate this no longer."

"Then, you won't have to." Galvatron aimed and fired at Zarak. He half hoped to see blood spurting from that robotic suit. He hoped to hear Zarak scream in agony, in realization that he made a mistake by crossing the leader of the Decepticons. Galvatron fired again and again until something hot and sharp bit him behind his left shoulder. He turned and found Needlenose's gun, Zigzag, smoldering from ionization. Zigzag meant to hit him in the back, but missed, singing Galvatron's arm instead.

That set him off. Galvatron bellowed incoherently and just shot his cannon, hitting one Decepticon right after another, blowing some warriors in the face, others in the chest. Down went Apeface, down went Mixmaster and Ruckus and Breakdown and they were unceremoniously followed by Ramjet and Tantrum.

He was so busy taking and giving hits, the leader of the Decepticons did not see Scorponok transform behind him, towering in his scorpion mode like a god in judgment. Some of the Decepticons backed fearfully away, but Galvatron didn't notice until they stopped firing at him altogether.

"**GALVATRON.**"

He turned, his face of madness and anger melted to one of awe and terror. Then anger and arrogance took over again and Galvatron stepped back, staring at the gigantic one-hundred and fifty-foot Transformer. And he remembered momentarily the terror he felt as Unicron transformed all around him. He was a flea on a body the size of a god. A flea! And he was treated like one and the pain-oh Primus, the pain!

And here was someone else, some wanna-be moron who came to replace Unicron in Galvatron's mind. But Galvatron held his own resolve and smiled like a cat. "Scorponok, why didn't you say you wanted to play? Like a male fleshing craving copulation, I would have come. All you had to do was ask!" The smile on Galvatron's face died. His smoldering frame stood straight and proud. "I knew the day would come when my own would turn against me, fed from the hands of traitorous retro-asses like you, Scorponok!"

"We are all tired, Galvatron. We have grown weary of your ranting, your mad ideas and your endless attacks. You are so self-absorbed, you do not see that we all suffer as do you. We will end this . . .today."

"**WE! WE! AND WHO ARE WE!**" He rested his fists on his hip plates, his chin held high in the air, showing off as only Galvatron could. Then he turned his back on them and walked away.

The giant transformer shifted to his robot mode, each move glided as smoothly and quietly as a snake shedding its old skin. Scorponok aimed one cannon and fired. Galvatron sailed through the air from impact, flying much like a doll tossed in play. As though in cue, other Decepticons followed Scorponok's example and fired their weapons at the former Decepticon leader, then others. At first, some, like Soundwave, Scourge and the Constructicons who considered themselves loyal to Galvatron found themselves in the minority. First Hook fired, then a couple of his partners. Scourge followed their example, deciding who was going to be more worthy of his loyalty. Finally, and perhaps reluctantly, Soundwave copied.

Seconds dragged on into an eternity of thunderous explosions, falling like silent lights in the vacuum of space. One by one, the Decepticons ceased fire, watching as radioactive dust settled, blanketing the land. All optics stared, waiting. Towering above them, Scorponok stood poised like a flesh creature holding its breath in great anticipation.

From the distance, between billows of settling dust, the Decepticons faintly heard scratchings of Galvatron's demented laughter. One step. Two. Some of the Decepticon host drew back in horror as their former leader emerged from the smoke and ashes of what was to be his grave. Battered, scarred, torn and marred, Galvatron came to them as one who had emerged from the furnaces of Torments.

One functioning red optic flashed cold. His mutilated face twisted horribly as he tried to smile. Exposed circuitry snapped and crackled. One optic had shattered. The lower left side of his face had been blown away entirely so that all that could be seen were the inner workings of his intake valves and support clamps. One arm hung from a few wires, no hand was attached to it. The exostructure of his left leg had melted into the circuitry, leaving a smoldering, blackened mess. He was the shadow of a creature that refused to die. His mangled body still defied the fact that he was rejected and by remaining alive, he mocked their pathetic efforts to destroy a body created by a god. Galvatron said something. The part of his lip components that still functioned moved up and down, but no sound came from his vocal units. He pointed a broken finger at them. His silent accusations gave them all the surges.

And then, as if that sight wasn't gruesome enough, Galvatron laughed.

Silent. He could make no noise at all, but he kept laughing.

Tantrum fired first, his cry mingled with the sound of his laser blasting one shot after another at the mad Decepticon who refused to terminate. He started a chain reaction, leading the host into another bombardment on the former Decepticon leader. Some of the braver Decepticons (or maybe angrier) moved forward in their attack. The area, once naught more than rocks and dust, did not stand. Bombs thundered, lasers whined. Rockets screamed before shattering the air and muttering on the ground. Eventually, Scorponok ordered a cease-fire. The dust took forever to settle, drifting like filthy snow. The Decepticons, exhausted, angry, stared, waiting once again with breathless impatience, wondering whether or not they attained their objective.

Was he gone?

And when the dust finally calmed, the air cleared, there was naught left but the cannon and its mount. Rumble ambled over debris, marking the blackened land with his tiny footprints. He hesitated a moment then touched the damaged cannon. His mouth hung open in wordless awe. The cannon, dented and blackened by the onslaught, lay like an ugly, weather-worn skull. He reached over and touched it, feeling warmth left by all the radiation and laser burns. With his mouth still agape, the little creep gazed over at his comrades.

"He's-he's gone. Vaporized."

The Decepticons all glanced at one another. Galvatron was dead.

* * *

**EARTH DATE: UNKNOWN.**

**DESTINATION: UNKNOWN**

Self-consciousness without form. Thought without perception. Hate without memory. Anger without objective.

Loneliness without comfort.

No darkness. A swirling colorful mist drifted all around. And here, for once, not one other soul existed. For once, there was life without substance. How could such a thing be? How could one exist without form?

What was the term? Sentient life? Was that what this was?

His self-consciousness contemplated this for a time he could not account. Life without physical form.

**DESTINATION: UNKOWN**

**EARTH DATE: UNKNOWN**

Agony. Excruciating pain and darkness. Parts of his body he didn't know he had ached. But his head hurt the worst. He felt as though he were being eaten alive, something devouring him one tormented molecule at a time. His body trembled with shock, his exostructure burned and languished with dents and radiation poisoning. He longed to shut down completely and permanently. Why hasn't he passed out yet? And where was the . . .

Galvatron's optics activated. Whatever starlight there may have been all came jumbled and fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing alive? Why was he still alive? Pain pulsated in the back of his head and traveled to every part of his body, washing over some areas like a dull throb, slicing him like a laser scalpel in others.

He had plunged. Down. Down. Down. He was anticipating oblivion, that frame of non-existence he knew would eventually sweep him aside from the universe like so much negligible space dust. All his life, he knew and believed that once he died, that would be the end of it. Death was final and time after time, he avoided death one way or another, sending death to others as a sort of offering, promising Death all the lives it craved so long as it would not swallow him with them.

And it worked. All those millions of years as Megatron, now himself anew. Autobots and flesh creatures alike were gifts to the ghost of Death. Galvatron even sacrificed his own to appease Death. And here, laying face down, he had once again escaped Death. Death released him from his obligation.

Pain bit him again, clamping its jaws over his back and chest. Galvatron's body convulsed only enough to create more pain through the rest of his systems. He arched his head, opening his mouth but no sound came. He tried to scream and could not! With the one functional hand he clawed at the dust beneath him and tried to use his military training to control the pain. But it eluded him and played over his body. It danced over his legs, snapping the electrical workings then it jumped up and struck his side and again the great Decepticon leader wreathed, creating more opportunities for pain to attack him elsewhere. At that point he learned to lay still, helpless.

Pain continued to toy with him, but now not as badly. His systems seemed to calm slightly, leaving Galvatron's frail mind to wander, return to the present situation then reflect. He remembered being in this predicament before-two, three, four times, in fact and it all seemed so absurd how no matter how much pain one could learn to tolerate, pain always seemed to . . . hurt. He remembered his fight with Optimus Prime and the resulting pain that only allowed him to drift aimlessly through space. He remembered Unicron's torture and how evil that thing was, one of few creatures Galvatron recalled that was craftier and meaner than himself. He really was hoping to gain some kind of alliance with the Autobot Hot Rod, perhaps attain some moment of common understanding as he did once or twice with Prime. But that all fell with another mental attack from Unicron. Then Unicron died and with it, all Galvatron's connection to an endless source of power and because of the link between he and Unicron, the behemoth's death took Galvatron's sanity with him.

Arrogant over-sized . . . Galvatron could not think of an insult cleaver enough for Unicron. He was too big, too horrible.

But in the end, even Unicron was forced to succumb to the power of death.

Inwardly, Galvatron laughed. He loved Death. He worshiped it, enjoyed dishing it out. He loved to watch as the life of a creature's optics died, swallowed by the black embrace of Death. It fascinated him. He laughed and laughed and laughed time and time and time and time . . .

And time. . .

He stopped laughing.

It really wasn't that funny.

Nothing was ever that funny.

He was the joke.

It dawned on the Decepticon just how utterly alone he was. No friends. No one to come looking for him. They didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he was. Was he on that asteroid where Scorponok crashed? What happened to Cyclonus? Where were the others? Did they try to kill him then just take off?

Galvatron vainly tried to get his automatic repair systems on line to no avail. He was far too gone. His broken form had taken too much damage. No one was around to see what a pitiful sight he really was.

No one cared-why would they? They didn't like him, didn't trust him. Not that he'd really blame them. Galvatron didn't trust Galvatron. But when it all came right to the moment of truth, when Galvatron had to face the facts as they stood, he realized the Decepticons would not be looking for him. They would not bother seeking a former leader.

Baahhh! Screw them too! Cutthroats! Scoundrels! The Autobots were better allies than any of them!

Darkness settled over his optics and Galvatron could not tell if his sight, what little he had, was malfunctioning, or if the area's 'daytime' was coming to a close. Pain danced a bit harder on his backside and the Decepticon longed to moan. Inwardly he did. And to his disgust, he found it wasn't just the pain that distressed him so, but the helplessness of the entire situation. He was going to lie there until either he terminated, his systems came back on line and he could repair himself, or someone had enough pity (heh, stupidity) to help.

But why would anyone want to help him? Galvatron knew the instant he had the chance, he'd betray them, their trust and their friendship, just like any good Decepticon would. You don't dare trust anyone, stab them before they stab you, as the saying might go. No one was trustful enough to be his friend. But now thinking it over, that was his attitude all his life. 'Ha!' he would inwardly scoff, 'fools! I am (Mega)Galvatron! I am better than you! Nothing more than scruff marks under my boots!' And that, he realized, is why he was never close to anyone. Soundwave, possibly. But Soundwave was an exhaust-kisser. A real friend would have told him how wrong . .

Cyclonus.

And why? Why was Cyclonus so willing to go to such lengths? Was he a glutton for punishment, an idiot, or . . . did he see something in Galvatron that Galvatron didn't see . . . himself?

With all his power, with all his arrogance, with all his might and sense of superiority, Galvatron realized how alone he truly was. Rejected. Dumped here like a blot of molten slag, left to cool in a reject pile, only to be recycled again.

But this time there was no Unicron to come along and give him a new purpose.

No purpose. The Decepticons had all rejected him. They rejected his power, his potential. His goals of interstellar rule. And all for what? For Scorponok? He was a pansy! A yellow-chromed flesh-brain with an IQ of a maintenance robot! What did Scorponok have that he, Galvatron, Leader of the Decepticons didn't? What was Scorponok offering them that Galvatron did not?

Ah! Here comes death! Oh at long last, sweet death. A dark love came to take Galvatron from all his agony, from the darkness and the loneliness. Galvatron would now join the continuum of the universe. His consciousness would be lost forever to a deep black void. No one would ever remember him. No one cared.

And Prime would rejoice.

**EARTH DATE: UNKNOWN**

**DESTINATION: UNKNOWN**

I WAS GIVEN PERMISSION TO ALLOW YOU TO REST SO THAT YOU COULD PAY ATTENTION.

It was the first thing he heard and Galvatron heard it with perfect clarity. His optics came on line but all he found was a shapeless figure of light. It sat and stood and knelt in front of him. It walked around his mangled form and talked with a soft non-gender voice.

I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU ANOTHER CHANCE TO LIVE. I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU A CHANCE TO LIVE A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LIFE. IT'S ENTIRELY UP TO YOU WHETHER OR NOT YOU WANT IT.

If Galvatron had human eyes, they would have rolled back in annoyance. Now he was hallucinating and/or going quite mad. It was the pain, right? No one could possibly-

GALVATRON, I AM SPEAKING TO YOU. PAY ATTENTION!

It shook him enough to realize that whatever being was there, was quite real and could read his mind. He quailed, remembering another being with the same ability. He was mean, meaner than . . . yes, Galvatron reminded himself, he had been around that circle of thought just a few minutes (hours, days?) ago. The creature/being paced before him.

I AM HERE TO OFFER YOU ANOTHER LIFE. A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LIFE. I WILL NOT CHANGE YOUR PHYSICAL FORM. THIS DOES NOT INCLUDE ANY OF THE DEEDS YOU HAVE COMMITTED IN THE PAST. YOU WILL BE A DIFFERENT PERSON . . . EVENTUALLY. NOT THAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGING YOURSELF. YOU DON'T POSSESS THAT KIND OF POWER. BUT I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU, YOUR KIND FOR QUITE SOME TIME AND I . . . FOUND SOMETHING OF VALUE IN YOU, A STRENGTH NOT PARTICULARLY KNOWN OF YOUR SPECIES. YOU UNDERSTAND DIRECTION AND POWER, A DETERMINATION TO MAKE THINGS HAPPEN. AND SOMEWHERE, VERY, VERY DEEP, I FOUND THE SMALLEST OF SPARKS.

The entity paused here and Galvatron tried to fathom and follow where It was leading. What was all this excrement for anyway? What was It driving at, as the Autobots would say? The unnamed entity squared itself right in his face plates. I'M OFFERING YOU A NEW LEASE ON LIFE. BUT RATHER A LIFE OF GREED AND DESTRUCTION, POWER WROUGHT OF FEAR AND HATE, I'M OFFERING YOU A LIFE SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS, A LIFE WHERE TRUST IS GIVEN AND TAKEN. I'M OFFERING YOU A LIFE OF UNCERTAINTY AND PAIN, BUT ONE OF FULFILLMENT.

If he could have, Galvatron would have snarled in Its face. What was in it for him? What was in it for the Entity before him? What was the big deal? Wasn't there someone else better than he? And what was this slag about trust and friendship? He was Galvatron, he needed no friends!

The Entity laughed.

It laughed at him!

IT LAUGHED AT HIM!

YOU ARE EVEN MORE PATHETIC THAN MY COLLEAGUES HAVE WARNED ME! YOUR ARROGANCE IS CERTAINLY MORE THAN EXCESSIVE! IF YOU COULD SEE WHAT A MESS YOU ARE, YOU WOULD NOT BE SPEAKING OF SUCH THINGS, DECEPTICON! HALF YOUR BODY IS MISSING! BY ALL ACCOUNTS, YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALIVE! BUT THIS IS JUST A PART OF YOUR PUNISHMENT.

Galvatron wanted to growl. What punishment? Fool! What was the Entity implying?

GALVATRON, YOU HAVE BEEN SENTENCED TO LIVE A LIFE OF AGONY UNTIL THE END OF TIME. THAT'S ONLY THE BEGINNING. THERE ARE FAR WORSE THINGS IN STORE FOR YOU. AT THIS MOMENT, YOUR SANITY HAS BEEN RESTORED. BUT SOON IT WILL BE TAKEN FROM YOU AGAIN AND YOU WILL REMAIN HERE, ISOLATED. YOU WILL NEVER SEE ANOTHER LIVING CREATURE-EVER.

Galvatron did not believe It.

WELL, WHETHER YOU DO OR NOT IS INCONSEQUENTIAL. YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN A CHOICE. I WILL LEAVE YOU NOW TO THINK ABOUT MY OFFER. REMEMBER, ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS ACCEPT. THAT'S IT.

And that was it. The Entity left and once again the Decepticon fell into a chasm of darkness in his mind. Pain came back and he soundlessly wreathed and whined, longing for rest and release. His mutilated form twitched and jerked with reflex motility. And with each tremble came another jolt of pain just as though someone took a hot blade and seared his circuitry with it.

For a long time Galvatron's body repeated the pain process. every time the body reacted to stabbing pain, more pain would erupt, spreading from head to boot, if he had them.

And the worst of it was that he was unable to help himself.

And bit by bit Galvatron came to admit to himself that he was to blame for his predicament. He should have been more considerate of his people, rather than wallowing in self pity. He put himself here because had he not tried to play king of the mountain, he would still be with . . . Cyclonus.

The Decepticons abandoned him, but he put himself here.

He was responsible, just like Scorponok said. He was responsible.

**EARTH DATE: UNKNOWN**

**DESTINATION: UNKNOWN**

"ATTEND."

It was all that had to be said. He knew he had no choice other than obedience. But the Presence was not so crass and god-like as Unicron. Not so . . . dirty. He concentrated on light, soft at first, then dark until he realized where he was: Cybertron. He also recognized it as the so-called Golden Age before the Third Cybertronian War.

Some 'Golden Age!', he thought. Riots, invasions, rise of sentient guardian robots and the battle between the Decepticons and a species calling themselves the Rock Lords. To this day, the Autobots still have no record regarding that war. The Rock Lords claimed to have purchased a piece of Cybertron meganiums ago, but (and here Galvatron still laughs about it) they had no receipt!

Here he stood on the lip of a platform overlooking Level Nine. Stretched out before him lay Prifix, a great Decepticon city once annihilated by the Autobots and their then-leader Impactor.

"What's this?" He asked the Presence.

"YOU'VE ALWAYS WONDERED WHAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE HAD THERE BEEN NO AUTOBOTS. I THOUGHT I WOULD OBLIGE YOU."

"Ahh. Before you cast me into oblivion. Is that it? You would taunt me with what my life would have been like had I not been the corrupt and obsessive machine I am now?"

"OBLIVION, MEGATRON?"

"Don't trifle with me. I'm no idiot."

"IF YOU THINK THAT LIFE ENDS WITH THE DEATH OF THE BODY, YOU ARE AN IDIOT. ONLY LOWER LIFE FORMS TRULY DIE. YOU ARE HERE TO WITNESS A POSSIBILITY."

Galvatron watched as the city's streets and flyways opened and the Decepticon army passed in review. Shock troops and seekers, scouts and infantry marched, rolled or flew with pride. Galvatron smiled. It was a beautiful sight. So much power, so much enthusiasm as the warriors marched by the citizens. Their colors shined bright in the city street lights.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?"

"Yes. Tempest's troops. They were the finest in all the world. Cybertron's very best. I managed to recruit some of my finest warriors from there. That was shortly before the battle-the war against Iacon."

"YOU MET STARSCREAM THERE, DIDN'T YOU?"

He did not answer. It was also the place where Optimus Prime suddenly and abruptly appeared. No warning, no preamble. He just suddenly appeared. Megatron would have flattened Iacon and made a greater place for himself in the Decepticon ranks had it not been for the sudden rise of a new and very powerful Autobot leader. Where the new Prime had come from was anyone's guess. But Megatron suspected that traitor Alpha Trion had something to do with it.

"HERE, THERE ARE NO AUTOBOTS, MEGATRON. HERE, THEY CEASED TO EXIST ALMOST TEN VORNS AGO."

Galvatron's power core skipped a vibration. "What-what happened to them all?" For some odd reason, he honestly felt concerned. Life without the Autobots was a strange concept. He hated them, that was all too evident. But . . . none?

"YOU'RE STANDING ON THEM."

The words chilled his soul. Galvatron glanced everywhere. All the buildings, all the parapets, the ledges and dells. The patios and walkways. The tunnels and the bridges. He was standing in a city made into a morgue.

No Autobots?

Humph. "We are a prosperous people. I knew they were wrong, anyway."

"FOR NOW." The presence did not reflect anything good or indifferent to Galvatron's quip. 'BUT TIME PROVES ALL THINGS RIGHT OR WRONG. NO AUTOBOTS, NO MATRIX OF LEADERSHIP."

"No Decepticon can use the Matrix!" Galvatron's anger swelled. "The Matrix means nothing to me, to us as a people! What does It think it is, choosing one side over another? Is Autobot programming that much better than we? They, who are weak and cowardly?"

"NOT EVERYONE'S PLACE IS IN BATTLE, GALVATRON. WHO FED THE TROOPS? WHO ADMINISTERED REPAIRS DURING THE WAR WITH THE QUINTESSONS? WHO INVENTED WEAPONS AND DEVISED STRATEGIES? WHO BUILT THE CITIES YOU DWELL IN, THE BUILDINGS YOU INHABIT? WHAT DECEPTICON ADMINISTERS KINDNESS TO THE SOUL? WHAT DECEPTICON OFFERS KINSHIP WITHOUT BEING CONSIDERED WEAK? WATCH, AS TIME PASSES. YOUR PEOPLE, THE TROOPS AND THE CITIZENS BEGIN TO FEED OFF ONE ANOTHER, CRAVING FOR A COMFORT THEY CANNOT GIVE EACH OTHER. COMPETITIVE, ARROGANT SOULLESS CREATURES WHOSE ONLY CONCERN IS DUTY AND OBLIGATION, WHOSE ONLY DRIVE IS TO HUNT AND FIGHT. WHERE IS THE BALANCE, GALVATRON?"

He watched as the scene turned dark. The Decepticons fell to a society locked in politics and greed. They preyed upon all races weaker and different from themselves. They battled fiercely with the Z'taxans and lost thousands of lives. But madness had eaten away at the top and insane leaders sent their troops on suicide missions. The leaders would end up either executed or assassinated by their own, replaced with other minds filled with the same greed, hostility and madness as was before and no end came.

Not until four great rulers took power and in fighting among themselves, they literally divided the entire planet in four pieces and went their separate ways. The Quintessons found each of them and subjugated the entire race a little at a time.

Galvatron scowled in disgust. "This is stupid! The Quintessons are fools and weaklings! They have no power!"

"YOU ARE NOT IN ANY POSITION TO JUDGE SOMEONE WHOSE AGE IS GREATER THAN YOUR OWN PLANET'S. YOUR PEOPLE KNOW SO LITTLE ABOUT THE QUINTESSONS, IT'S A WONDER THEY HAVE TOLERATED YOUR ATTITUDE AS LONG AS THEY HAVE. REMEMBER, FOR MEGANIUMS, THEY ENSLAVED YOUR KIND. THEY SOLD YOU TO OTHERS OF EQUAL POWER. THEY FORCED YOU TO BELIEVE YOU WERE MERELY MACHINES. WHAT POWER IS REQUIRED TO BRAINWASH AN ENTIRE SPECIES, MEGATRON?"

He could not answer. He knew the Presence knew he had no argument. The great Decepticon leader fell disturbingly silent. He watched as the possible history continued to flash before his optics, demonstrating how the Quintessons created new machines out of the wreckage of their Decepticon prey and enslaved them and sold them for merchandise and/or scrap. Cybertron was gone. The great Decepticon empire diminished like so much dust. Entire planets that toiled under Decepticon power fell to the Quintessons and like a domino effect, entire solar systems fell to the enslavement of the five-faced freaks. And there, those people, all races and nations, suffered ever worse fates than what the Decepticons put them through. Plaques and tests, genocide of whole species of peoples and mutations of nameless horrors were inflicted upon the Quintesson's victims.

He looked away, unable to withstand the burdensome sight. All that power, that might, gone. "We are a proud people." He said to the Presence. "We would not allow such . . ."

"ATROCITIES? ISN'T THAT WHAT WAS ONCE SAID ABOUT YOU?"

He glared at nothing.

"AND WHAT WOULD YOU DO TO PREVENT THIS?"

"Ha! How do I know this would even come to pass?"

"NOW IT'S MY TURN TO SAY 'DO NOT TRIFLE WITH ME.' GALVATRON, PERHAPS YOU NEED A LITTLE MORE TIME TO CONSIDER THIS. REMEMBER, THEN. AND CONSIDER.

**TIME ESTIMATION: SEPTEMBER, 2038**

**DESTINATION: CENTRAL CITY, OREGON**

The year crawled on along at a pace that made torture a sweet thought. The summer was an eternity of long warm days followed by nights of tested patience. School started up again and Rusti found she had no reason to look forward to a year without the presence of a friend. Optimus assured her she could make it if she would give herself time. Cody had filled her days with humor and mental challenges. Now with the event of his tragic death, a void burned her soul. Rusti supposed it would have been far worse if either Optimus or Rodimus had died instead. But the thought did not comfort her much.

She traveled in saddened silence down the hall toward Mr. Walter's math class. Although she knew a 'stunt' was going to be pulled today, the idea did little to lift her mood. It was the last idea Cody gave her before the Quintessons took him away.

With a final sigh, she entered the class, head held high. Her peers knew she had skipped all last semester, taking a private tutor to keep up her studies as she tried to emotionally mend. She couldn't be more thankful all the counseling and grieving was nearly behind her.

She took her seat, opened her books and produced her homework.

Mr. Walters strolled in on a pair of extra-long legs. A funny fluffy moustache tickled the top of his mouth and a shiny bald spot smiled from the top of his head. His thin-framed glasses slipped down his nose, allowing his dark eyes to scrutinize every student that sat in his class. He set three thick books on his desk, customarily checked the chalkboard behind him and set his hand on his boombox.

Rusti tried to keep a straight face, knowing what was inside the boombox.

"Good morning, mathematicians." he greeted. "I trust you are in good health, that you are mentally prepared to resume your exploration on the subject of Delta?"

As usual, he received no answer and he expected none. Walters ordered all homework to be passed forward and his assistant handed back the papers from the day before. He turned to the chalkboard and scribbled out a long-ass equation and the longer he made it, the more students groaned in despair. Beneath it, he assigned the homework chapters and their problems. Then he turned around, bouncing the piece of chalk clutched between his thumb and forefinger, "Tomorrow I will begin giving you six story problems. These may take the quarter to answer. The student who answers before the end of the quarter will receive a special prize. Remember, this is just one step below quantum physics. I am seeking that student who would be worthy of my special attention. Now, turn to chapter two, page fourteen and do exercises one through four and we'll discuss it."

His finger inched for the tape player and Rusti's heart raced with anticipation.

He pressed it and the silence killed her.

The room exploded with the violent sounds of Metallica. A guitar screeched and base drums shattered all attention. Walters was so upset, he had a hard time finding the stop button. He managed to shut off the nerve-shattering music and fumed while the room rocked with laughter and students applauded the anonymous prankster.

Rusti only smiled. The joke would not have been pulled off if Steel Jaw had not volunteered to help.

Yup. It was going to be a better day.

Math class came to a close and Rusti exchanged books from her locker. History was next. A test was due today, now that she remembered. She shuffled assignments in each their perspective folders and quickly refreshed her make up. She dreaded school anymore. She missed Cody's help and companionship. He was smart, really smart. It made her wonder how her life was going to turn from here. The girl faltered, pausing in mid motion. What was she to do with her life and time now? She had no real friends outside Fortress Maximus. Most of the girls her age were frilly things with compressed air for brains. Too many of them that she did know on a name basis were preoccupied with dates and clothes and what guy was next on their 'hit' list. Sasha Comprells, for example, bragged to her about sleeping with five guys in one week.

That was three weeks ago, before Sasha discovered she was pregnant.

Dumb broad.

The five-minute bell sounded and Rusti slammed her locker shut and calmly made her way to class. A sea of faces passed her by in a blurred haste, leaving her feeling more like a number in a cash register rather than an individual.

Rusti frowned and suddenly felt very lonely. Every now and again some yo-joe would come her way and try to talk to her, looking more into 'getting her' than actually getting to know her. After turning several of them down last spring, most boys just ignored her. Now it seemed most students ignored her altogether and Rusti began to wonder if in fact it wasn't because of her affiliation with the Autobots.

She entered her history class and took her seat, carefully stowing her belongings beneath her chair. Her necklace slipped out from under her shirt and gently struck her nose. She smiled, feeling silly. Miss Tau began to pass test papers and ordered two giggling girls to be quiet, or be dismissed from class. Rusti straightened just as the teacher's assistant set her test face down on the table. Onda eyed Rusti's necklace, recognizing the Autobot symbol.

Rusti pretended not to notice Onda's stare and pulled a pencil out of a pocket in her back pack.

Miss Tau tapped the erase-a-board with an ink pen. "Twenty minutes." She clipped. "Hand the papers in face down and leave when you are done. Go."

Rusti flipped the test over and scanned the first page with a scowl. The Napoleon Era. The girl wondered why Tau was so obsessed with the French Revolution. Tau wasn't an easy teacher. Rusti had to memorize some of the victims of the Revolution, the artist that was famous during that time and all the events leading up to Napoleon's execution of rioters. Rusti found learning easier than other students somehow. She had a knack for picking up information and recalling it at a much later time.

Ten minutes later, Rusti turned her paper in and Tau gave her a dismissal slip to leave class early.

Rusti felt several envious eyes follow her out the door. She was sorry so many other students had to study harder. But she couldn't help what she was.

Her folks, and Aunt Delphra, kept trying to explain that her association with the alien robots made her seem too weird in the eyes of her peers. She should be going out with boys and making friends with other girls her own age, not strapping on a specialized exo-suit and playing football with the Dinobots. She should be haunting malls and spending money on movies or collecting teen magazines rather than spending entire afternoons in Optimus Prime's office just contentedly drawing.

She really couldn't help it. Not really (or was she making an excuse?) She liked to be near him. She felt better being around him and Roddi as they did their paperwork. Seldom did either Autobot leader speak to her while they worked, it just seemed a 'given' that she did her 'thing', they did theirs. But it was being there that seemed to matter. Rusti laughed to herself; if only more people knew what Optimus was like in private! They would be amused to discover that he talks to himself, to his computer, to the digipads, sometimes to the weather! It wasn't that he was intentionally ignoring her, he would just forget. Medical reports, field reports, mission logs, structural integrity reports, personnel files, notes and requests and everything and anything else that made a society run smoothly sat on his desk day after endless day waiting to be read, remembered, reported and filed. Every now and again Optimus would sigh aloud and wonder how he ever managed to do it all without Rodimus.

Third period bell rang. Rusti was already at her locker preparing for art class. She took up painting this semester to allow herself some 'goof-off' time during school. But lately she had found the more she did artwork, the more she enjoyed it and although Rusti had drawn all her life, seldom had she taken her artistic side seriously. But now she had found an outlet for all the darkness that had invaded her soul. The paintings she'd been working on reflected the very things she saw while trapped in the Matrix. Of course, no one knew what they were and she'd just explain she was goofing around, so as not to frighten them. But what she painted was real and scary and with the scenery being so dark and disturbing, she felt adding the monster virus would be far too overwhelming.

Rusti carried her supplies down two halls and again marched and meandered in another ocean of people. She was about to go through the double doorway when something hard hit the back of her head. She didn't cry out, but glanced around and locked eyes with Garth Strommers, Jerk Number One and pro-human activist. Somehow he knew she was affiliated with the Autobots and lately he rarely missed an opportunity to harass her. She glared dangerously at him, again saying nothing and moving on.

Once she stepped into the class room, Rusti made eye contact with three girls who considered themselves God's gift to the art community. One, Lorraine Namblam, glowered at her. But again Rusti just ignored her and went about her business laying out her materials and easel. She set up the canvass, now mostly finished except for the webbing which she recalled had things dangling in its throws. She plucked up a brush and studied the painting, trying to decide what kind of light to use on the topmost part.

The light. It was cold, dim. Cold. She smiled and remembered as a child she once fell sound asleep in Optimus' office, waking much later to find him scrutinizing her with his large blue optics. No words had passed between them, but she could tell he felt suspicious about her nature.

"Why?" He asked, not needing to say anything more.

She rubbed her eyes sleepily and tried to think of a way to explain her attraction. At the time, however, being only six years old, she didn't have the means to answer him. Now she knew. An unknown energy attracted her, like sugar for ants. She couldn't stay away and felt very depressed when not around it, which would explain why as an infant her mother would have to leave her there in Autobot city just to get some peace from all of Rusti's crying.

The girl took a step back from her painting, carefully critiquing her own work. She shuddered to think that an outside force might have tampered with her DNA. She thrived on the energies produced by the Matrix. She communicated with it, dumb and unrealistic as it sounded. And why her? Cody might have figured out the why of it. He kept trying to tell her she had a special relationship with the Matrix . . . but here Rusti still shook her head at the whole affair. Of all people, why would it happen to her? What did she have that someone more qualified did not?

She frowned at herself, knowing that denial would not erase the reality of her position and situation. She loved Optimus and Roddi and was grateful that she was one of the few people capable of comforting them. The Autobots as a whole were idiots. They had absolutely no clue what Optimus and Roddi went through for them day after day. Rusti was certain there were some things even she wasn't aware of. Often she would pick up quiet gossip, someone complaining how they didn't understand Optimus'/Rodimus' mood, or why their leader snapped at them all of a sudden or why Optimus/Rodimus won't just enjoy themselves very often.

Sometimes, just sometimes Rusti would be working on a drawing and she could feel Optimus stare at her and she could sense the stress levels in the room take a dive. It was bizarre, really. When he and Rodimus would allow no one else in their office, she would be there sitting in some remote corner. Not that she was allowed to stay during personal meetings. She always took care not to overstep her boundaries or to use her relationship with them to her own advantage. She felt it an unspoken understanding that she could stay as long as she behaved herself, causing no trouble.

All in all, Optimus and Roddi seemed to be doing well. Well, on the surface, anyway. The two leaders were certainly less moody than before, Roddi was less prone to bouts of temper, Optimus to bouts of severe depression. They still acted odd. Roddi seemed a little more impulsive, sometimes taking light situations and making a big deal out of them. It annoyed Kup to no end, insisting the problem at hand was no problem, but Rodimus took everything with serious care. Optimus kept in constant close contact with Earth, checking in as often as every other day if he suspected something was wrong.

Not that he was ever wrong about something being wrong. It never ceased to amaze Rusti how sensitive Optimus was at times-even when she would have a nightmare the night before, he'd call and specifically ask to talk to her. This peeved Kup, and the crotchety old fart would complain that Optimus would spend precious resources and power to call and comfort 'a child'. But never did Optimus pay attention to him.

Rusti smiled to herself thoughtfully. Even that far away, Optimus still considered her a part of his life.

Rusti glanced at the clock and cringed. There never seemed to be enough time to paint! She washed her brushes and began putting things away. Somewhere in the background she could hear Lorraine whisper to friends and giggle. One girl said something else and from the corner of her eye, Rusti could see them glancing in her direction.

The first bell rang and her classmates began clean-up. Rusti was already out the door and aimed for her locker. The day was going by far too slowly, one wearisome class followed another like a dull throbbing headache.

She opened her locker and wondered when her pain was going to go away. She wondered when she would ever feel confident enough about herself, or safe enough to be friends with someone else. Of course, she remembered, Cody's death was not her fault. In fact, the Quintessons kidnapped her incidentally-she was an eye witness and they didn't want to leave any loose ends.

Rusti hauled out her English book and portfolio and paused, wondering why she had been thinking so much on the Quintessons of late. They really hadn't been on her mind much for the last couple of months, but the past few days have made up for it.

She shrugged, closed the door to her locker and turned away. A brilliant light flashed before her and she blinked.

AS INDICATED, WE HAVE FAILED TO INFILTRATE THE NEW BARRIER.

IT WOULD SEEM, TOK DRAV'DARON, THAT FOR EVERY ATTEMPT WE HAVE MADE TO MANIPULATE THE TIME LINES AND EVENTS CONCERNING CYBERTRON AND ITS CREATURES, THE MATRIX HAS SUCCESSFULLY THWARTED US.

NONSENSE. HOW COULD IT? IS THE MATRIX ALIVE?

IT IS KNOWN TO CHOOSE ITS BEARERS. THAT EXPRESSES VOLITION AND SELF CONSCIOUSNESS. IT CHOOSES AUTOBOT LEADERS WITHIN SPECIFIED PARAMETERS. THAT INDICATES MENTALITY. A NINETY-NINE POINT TWENTY-FOUR PERCENT POSSIBILITY REMAINS THAT THE MATRIX ACTIVELY PROTECTS THE AUTOBOTS. THE DESTRUCTION OF UNICRON, THE SURVIVAL OF OPTIMUS PRIME AFTER CRASHING FOUR MILLION YEARS AGO, THE OBLITERATION OF THE HATE PLAQUE ARE AMONG THE MIRIAD EXAMPLES.

THE HUMAN FEMALE-

And it was gone. Rusty sank to her knees, and rubbed her face. What was that? Who were the voices? What was she listening to? The girl remembered abruptly that she was still in school and glanced all around her. No one was in the hall, thank goodness. But the vision left her a bit paranoid and she thought for sure someone was watching her. The girl gathered her books securely about her and kept glancing around. Not one soul met her eyes. She sighed and cleared her mind, closing her eyes. She stretched around herself, mentally searching the immediate area. Whatever was there, vanished, but sloppily left a trail. The trail ended, as though a door had suddenly slammed shut.

Rusti squeezed her books more tightly and hoped she was only day dreaming.

Concentration had left her in English. Rusti could not keep up with what the teacher was saying about "The Count of Monty Cristo." Not that it really mattered. All she needed to do was finish reading the last three chapters . . . but her mind wandered again and Rusti feebly shook her head. Whatever had happened, left her mentally disoriented. She weakly pulled her hair behind one ear and let her arms drop on the desk. Someone's finger stabbed her hard on the shoulder and Rusti met Mr. Ehlers' angry gaze.

"Miss Witwicky, if you require sleep, I suggest you find a place outside my classroom."

. . . outside my classssssroooom. She batted her eyes again, fighting exhaustion. IT WOULD SEEM, TOK DRAV'DARON, THAT FOR EVERY ATTEMPT WE HAVE MADE TO MANIPULATE THE TIME LINES AND EVENTS CONCERNING CYBERTRON AND ITS CREATURES, THE MATRIX HAS SUCCESSFULLY THWARTED US.

WE HAVE MANIPULATED THE TIME LINES . . .

MANIPULATED THE TIME LINES . . .

The bell rang and shook Rusti out of her daze. Class was over already?

Her jaw dropped. She wasn't sitting in English, but in Home Ec! She stood, a bit shaken by this sudden shift. Roddi? she thought. Something's wrong. Roddi?

But he only gave her an acknowledgment, indicating he was very busy. Her heart pounded. She had to get back home immediately! She gathered her things as swiftly as she could and left the room. She made her way across two halls, just one hallway short of the parking lot.

From the opposite end of the hall tromped Garth Strommers. A whole pack of his groupies stared at her, arms crossed. She only had to read their faces to figure out what they were there for. She turned around and aimed for the other exit leaving that part of the school and entered the language and arts section.

But no sooner had she entered that hallway when she found Garth had anticipated her move and met her at the mouth of the hall. The other exit stood at the drama department. Her heart began to race. She did not want to confront these jerks! She turned back and found another girl standing behind her, purposely blocking her path. Rusti did not look Lorraine in the eye.

"Well, seems we have a robo-freak in our school, people." Garth sneered. "Perhaps we should find out if she has any microchips in her brain or not."

Laughter met his crass comment.

Rusti lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Steel Jaw had left during fourth period so as not to be missed. That was alright. She could handle Garth as long as he did not try to get ugly.

"So, little girl, think you're too good t' be with real people?" he challenged.

She wanted to say something, but decided to keep her mouth shut. Perhaps silence would discourage him. Garth chomped his gum. His followers all stood around like a pack of wolves hungry for a kill.

"Perhaps you're just confused about your place in the galaxy."

She suffered torment at the hands of the Quintessons and survived. She lost a dear friend and survived. Her family fought against her right to choose and she still survived. This boy was a punk. "Garth, don't pick a fight with me. It wouldn't be fair."

He raised a brow and stopped snapping his gum. "You threatening me, little girl?" he warned. "You think you're a robot, 'r something?"

"No." she replied calmly, though her skin itched with anxiety. "I just don't want any trouble."

Lorraine beside her shifted her weight and folded her arms in front. "Shoulda thought of that before you became a traitor."

Rusti glared at her in surprise. What did she know? Rusti Touched something more magnificent and beautiful than anything any three of these people had seen or experienced in their lives. She had also experienced terror more deeply than they. She shook her head. "I just don't want any trouble, that's all."

The books were slapped out of her hand and before she could react, Rusti found herself slammed into the lockers, Garth's knee planted firmly against her crotch. One hand clamped tightly over her mouth, the other choking her.

"It comes down to this, little girl: You're a traitor to your own species. I've seen you with them, those tin cans. I've seen how you talk to them, as though they were some group of gods, better than we. But here's the thing: WE are better by far. We don't have to scrounge for food or parts. We are far more adaptive. And you are threatening to destabilize our existence by meddling in the affairs of these creatures. So you're going to have to be taught a lesson."

He started by deeply kissing her, pressing his mouth against hers and one hand firmly over her breast. At first the shock left her unnerved. Disgusted, she thought she was going to suffocate or choke to death. Her first instinct was to falter and hope he'd let her go on default. The second thought was that he might try to rape her.

That woke something inside . . . she bit his tongue as hard and deep as she dared, tasting his salty blood.

He screamed and released her. Blood poured from his mouth. Two of his buddies moved to protect him and deliver retribution.

The fellow on the right aimed to give her a right-cross and Rusti ducked, delivering a turbulent blow to his stomach, pressing upward. The wind was knocked from him and he fell.

Shaking, she stared silently at the two wounded opponents.

The other boy kicked her feet out from under her and Rusti fell hard. He was taller than she, better built than Garth or the First Flunkey. He grabbed her by the collar, swept her up and slammed her hard into the lockers again. The impact stunned her momentarily. He groped her, shoved his knee up her crotch. Then he grabbed her by the hair, yanked her around and slammed her against the floor.

The force knocked the wind from her and dazed her momentarily. The cold floor bit her face hard and the girl tried to reorient herself. He yanked her back up and she jabbed him hard with her elbow, permitting enough space between she and her attacker so that she planted herself firmly on the ground and flipped her opponent over her shoulder.

He landed with a groan.

Lorraine hissed in a shiver, but not from the body slam. Something sharp sunk into Rusti's left shoulder, the shock forced her to her knees. She tried to reach over and pull an ink pen out of her shoulder but Garth gripped her face hard between his fingers, his eyes burned with rage, his mouth still dripping with blood. "Is this what you didn't want, little girl? Is it? You got it anyway, you know that, don't ya?"

Pain restricted her breathing and concentration left her. Voices came into her ears and all she could think of was what her parents would say about the situation. No! She had survived through too much to allow this insignificant bastard to threaten her like this! Jerk!

She slapped his hand aside and shoved him away, knocking him off balance. Before he tried to recover, she rammed him again, just the way she would playing football with Grimlock. She slammed him hard into the wall.

He made a clumsy attempt at a left cross just before campus security arrived. One idiot grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms. She cried out, her shoulder unable to take the rough treatment. The security officer shoved her onto the floor and another did the same to Garth.

"She's crazy!" Garth whined. "She attacked me, calling me a Pro-Human Activist! You've gotta put her away, man! She's nuts!"

Rusti remained silent. Dazed and in pain, she felt it better just to let someone else do the talking. The two were cuffed and dragged away to the principal's office.

Yup. It was going to be a great year.

The nurse attended Rusti's wound with the grace of an ox. At first she tried to be gentle but after several minutes of silence from the student, the nurse seemed to need to hear something. She admonished Rusti for getting involved in a fight. Rusti ignored her, knowing she would hear the same rebuke from her folks, from Roddi and probably Optimus.

The nurse poured disinfectant in Rusti's wound and was amazed that Rusti did not so much as flinch. "Goodness, girl. You've got nerves of steel." was the comment. But Rusti merely frowned. After what she had gone through in the last ten months, a little disinfectant amounted to little more than a bee sting. She silently waited, staring off into space while the nurse cleaned her face, checked her bruises again and filed a report before sending her to the principal's office.

Rusti walked like a zombie and felt like one. All she really wanted to do was find a nice little corner somewhere, anywhere and curl up for a nice long nap. She wasn't sure how this little meeting was going to turn out. She wasn't in the mood to argue with anyone. What was their problem, anyway?

Voices muttered behind the glass door of Mrs. Pollins' office. Rusti's mother, Netty, her father Daniel and 'dear' Aunt Delphra all waited for her.

Rusti stole a moment to compose herself, not emotionally prepared to face them. They would blame her for this fight, she just knew it. With a deep breath, Rusti entered while her parents and Mrs. Pollins chattered on.

Rusti nervously bit her lower lip and met eyes with her father. Daniel Witwicky stood tall and stern in his body armor. The awkward moment forced the girl to smile sheepishly. "Hi, Dad." she greeted.

Daniel Witwicky looked hard at his daughter and wiggled his finger for Rusti to approach. Then Netty, a tall brunette with deep set eyes and a firm jaw, took over. "We were all called off work because the school said you were found fighting with someone." Netty's not-so melodious voice echoed in Rusti's head like nails on a chalk board.

"I didn't start the fight." Rusti meekly replied. The fight had left her even more drained than the vision. She fought off the exhaustion, repeatedly trying to control herself. She knew she should contact Rodimus, but he was still in a meeting. She closed her eyes for a moment, oh, one precious moment and snapped out of it when she thought she was going to lose her balance.

Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Then who did? The boy you fought with said that you started it because of a comment he made."

"He's lying."

"He says you're lying." Netty swiftly rebutted.

"He's lying again. Rusti's gaze shifted from one adult to the next. "Why would I start a fight? I mean, there were more than one person there--"

"The boy said there was just he and his two friends." Netty argued.

Rusti rolled her eyes. "No. There were six. It was Garth, his two flunkies, two other guys and Lorraine." Disbelief reflected in their eyes and she wanted to swear. "It is unwise for one person to start a fight when he is outnumbered five-to-one. I mean, come on!"

Mrs. Pollins shifted papers on her desk and scribbled a note. "The one boy you bit will have to have six stitches on his tongue."

"Good!" Rusti snarled. "It'll be the last time he tries to molest me!"

"Resonna!" Netty's voice rang with shock.

"Look at me!" Rusti's voice level matched her mother's. "They shoved me into the lockers twice, one guy body-slammed me on the floor and another stabbed me with an ink pen and she's worried about stitches on Garth's tongue?"

Delphra, who had been amazingly quiet until now, took to her feet. To Rusti, her movements were stealthily spider-like. "You probably upset them somehow, Dear. Did you say something to them?"

"No." Rusti's eyes bored holes into Delphra's face.

Delphra smiled, reminding Rusti of a Quintesson. "Well, I'm sure they had their reasons. I mean, they must have known you're . . . pro-robotic."

Rusti struggled to maintain a sense of control. "I am pro-sentient life, Delphra. Unlike some people, I'm not so pin-headed as to think that Humans are the only sentient species in the universe."

Netty stomped her heel on the hard floor in protest, "Resonna! You should not talk to your aunt like that!"

Mrs. Pollins intervened, "I think we're getting off the subject here. The problem is, a fight occurred on school grounds and it is the policy of this district that fighting is punishable by expulsion--"

"I didn't start the fight!" Rusti stared at the bitch in as pleading a look as she could muster. "I was attacked. What would you have me do? I mean, Garth could have raped me--"

"Then if you were innocent, you should not have tried to defend yourself." Pollins replied deadpan.

Rusti stared at her in shock. She turned from her to her mother who shrugged.

"It's school policy, Resonna." Netty echoed.

She turned her back to them all. Why were her parents backing up Mrs. Pollins? Didn't they even think of her at all?

Pollins sighed. "Well, I'll have the papers drawn up--"

"No!" Rusti exploded. "You can't do anything until you talk to my legal guardian!" Thunder exploded in her ears and then next minute, Rusti's left cheek caught on fire.

No. She had just been slapped by Delphra. Pollins jumped to her feet in protest.

"Now see here!" the principal shouted. "There is no call for-"

She was cut off by a gesture from Delphra. Delphra forced Rusti to stare into her eyes. "You are surrounded by people who care about you, young lady. You must learn to respond to your own species. Otherwise, what those boys did to you was exactly what you deserved."

Rusti's heart was caught in her throat. She gazed from her mother to her father but neither of them could look her in the eye. She had done it. Delphra had convinced them that she was right. Delphra had them under her influence. There was no way Rusti could ever convince them how wrong she was.

The girl's body would not stop trembling but she refused to cry in front of Delphra. She would never give this bitch that kind of pleasure. Instead, Rusti's right hand clenched into a tight fist and she struck Delphra. Delphra practically flew across the room, landing among the chairs. Rusti didn't bother to gape at her own strength. But the other adults did, all three jumped to their feet, staring at an embarrassed and unruffled Delphra Leeman, then at Rusti herself. But Rusti was too busy softly rubbing an injured shoulder.

Netty shook her head in horror and opened her mouth to say something. But Rusti did not stay to listen to their pettiness. She stormed out of the office and off the school grounds.

Rodimus set the digipad down for a moment and tried to reorient his head. For the last week sensations of urgency disrupted his concentration. Something was terribly wrong, yet he could not quite grasp whatever was bothering him. It had something to do with the city, that much he knew. He had maintenance check and double check and check again but they continually came up with nothing.

He contacted Prime on Mars three times yesterday just to see if anything was nagging him. But Optimus seemed more or less dismissive, working intently on getting Mars' defense system up. Rodimus leaned back in his chair for a moment, staring out the window into the east. Green forest hills met his gaze, tall pine trees swayed in the autumn breeze. Subconsciously he scowled, staring off into nothing, wondering in passing why things had been so quiet of late.

He flinched suddenly. Something bit his left shoulder. He rubbed it, without giving it a second thought. Anger tugged him. No. Not from him. He wasn't angry at anything.

What was wrong?

Rodimus took to his feet and felt confused. He sensed anger and impending danger at the same time. The city. Fort Max was in danger.

The comline bleeped and Rodimus staggered back and pressed the receiving button. "Prime." he replied in monotone.

"Yo, Boss!" Blaster's ever cheerful voice sang over the line, "Gotta call from Cascade High."

It was enough to pull Roddi from his daydream. "Patch me in, Blaster."

"Hello?" It was Mrs. Pollins' annoying loud voice.

"This is Rodimus Prime, Mrs. Pollins." he answered. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I thought you might want to come up here and sign some expulsion papers for Resonna Witwicky."

"Rusti?" he inadvertently corrected. "What happened?"

"She got into a fight." Pollins swiftly brushed. "We could get this done and over with quickly, if you'd just come up here-"

"Is Rusti there? I'd like to speak to her."

"I-I'm afraid not, Mr. Rodimus Prime. Rusti walked off the school grounds an hour ago . . ."

Her voice melted into a alien frequency. Two frequencies. Four. Communicating all at once and to one another. Rodimus unintentionally hung up on Mrs. Pollins in order to hear the sound more clearly.

Voices. He was sure of it. He knelt on the floor. He lay on the floor. He laid his audio receptor to the floor.

Not good enough.

Roddi jumped and dashed outside as quickly as he could. He didn't bother with the elevator. He leapt down three flights of stairs, rebounded and made a run for the outer court. There, by the fountain, he dropped and pressed his audio sensor to the ground, trying desperately to block out all the noise around him. He listened for a scratching, a voice, a call, anything to indicate there were real sounds beneath the ground.

But as if the noise-makers knew he was on to them, the noise stopped. He heard nothing now. It was all so strange. Rodimus sat up and stared at the metal flooring in annoyance. For the moment, he remained completely heedless of all the stares from other Autobots and humans.

What was it? It nagged him like a dream he could almost remember.

It was as if . . .

No, he really couldn't guess.

Perhaps Rusti felt--Rusti!

Rodimus jumped to his feet again and activated his internal comlink. "Magnus, I'm heading out. Something's up with Rusti."

"Will you be long? We have that meeting with Ambassador Abdani from Theates."

"Yeah." Rodimus droned. "I'll be back soon." For once, just once, Rodimus wished Ultra Magnus would take the initiative to do things on his own.

Roddi found Rusti five miles outside the city limits. He stopped by the roadside. She did not laugh as he drove while she walked. Her gait was slow and all her books and back pack were swung over her right shoulder.

"Hey!" he called. "I'm looking for hitchhikers. Know any?"

"Not in this reality." Rusti growled.

"Rusti, get in, will ya'? I look like an idiot out here."

"That's alright. I feel like one. We make a great pair." Not one ounce of humor touched her voice. She was pissed.

"What's wrong?" he asked as she continued to walk. His scanners told him she had cuts and bruises on her face and a deep wound in her shoulder.

"Nothing!" she sang sarcastically. "Look, everything's great! The school staff are happy, the students are happy. The truant officer is happy, the principal is happy. The birds are happy, and the trees are happy. Everybody is happy so how could there be anything wrong?"

He rolled ahead a few feet then turned sharply and opened the passenger side door. "Rusti, get in."

It was not a request. Rusti knew better than to argue or pull any stunts with Rodimus. She sighed angrily, tossed her books in and sat with her arms folded. The door closed beside her and Rodimus drove on. He remained silent for a couple of beats, knowing she needed to cool down before saying anything rational.

He paused at a stop sign and took a right, heading toward the national park where Fort Max was located. "Rus," he called softly. "What's wrong?"

"I got into a fight and they want to expel me." she replied swiftly.

"Did you . . . get into a fight with one of the girls?"

"No." she snorted. "I didn't even start it, Roddi." her voice softened, indicating she was cooling down. "I tried to avoid it. I even gave him a warning, but he slammed me into the lockers and . . ." she couldn't finish it. At least Roddi was willing to listen to her. She bowed her head. "Delphra was there." she grumbled.

"Delphra watched the fight?" he asked innocently.

"No." she sighed impatiently and stared out the window into the forest of pines and redwoods. Even without the sound of her voice, Rodimus could tell the girl was in pain and very tired. "She was in the office with Mom and Dad."

"I see. And she started something."

"Yeah. Now they're going to expel me for something I didn't do."

"No they're not." Rodimus took a left toward the artificial lake. "I'll straighten things out, even if I have to call Mrs. Pollins up at two tomorrow morning."

She smiled mischievously. "Roddi, you wouldn't."

"Might." he corrected.

She didn't answer him, sinking further and further into a dazed state. Her shoulder hurt, her face hurt. Her heart hurt.

Rodimus parked under a tree, overlooking the large lake providing hydroelectric power to the city. Rusti realized that he really should be working on reports and meetings and other administrative business. Slowly, she pulled her fragmented mind together. "What're we here for, Roddi?"

"A reality check, lady-friend."

She got out and he transformed and scanned the lake. Everything here seemed perfectly normal. No vibrations or noises. He gazed back at the city past the football stadium.

He set his hands on his hip plates and groaned. Nothing. Notta. Zip.

"Probably nothing." he grumbled to himself.

"What?" Rusti asked, watching him pace like an impatient lion on the hunt.

"Ahh, nothing. Nothing at all."

"You mean you hear the underground noises, too?"

He stared a her, startled. Then the comline bleeped. Ultra Magnus had lost his patience.


	2. Fragments

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 2  
**Fragments**

**LATE OCTOBER: 2038**

**DESTINATION: MARS**

MY FRIENDS, I PRESENT TO YOU, OPTIMUS PRIME: LEADER OF THE AUTOBOTS.

They scrutinized him with suspicious stares. The elders didn't seem very convinced.

THIS, ALPHA TRION? HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK LIKE AN AUTOBOT. HOW DO WE KNOW HE IS THE CHOSEN ONE?

I HAVE BUILT HIM ACCORDINGLY. YOU WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO TRUST ME.

But they didn't. He couldn't blame them, really. There hadn't been an Autobot leader for five million Earth years and even on Cybertron, that was a long time. Most Autobots had forgotten what a leader was. And staring back at the judges, he could tell not only did they not trust him, they didn't like how he looked. He intimidated them to say the very least.

And nine million years later, he still questioned the validity of his position. He often wondered why the Matrix chose not to spare his life at the hands of Megatron back in 2005. If the Matrix had rejected him as leader, choosing Roddi instead, why was he brought back? Why, why didn't it protect Roddi from the Hate Plaque?

. . . Or was it that the Matrix had nothing to do with it at all? What if some other force were at work here?

Considering the events in the past twenty-five years, Optimus Prime would not rule out that possibility.

He shuffled a few digipads in his hands. From atop the roof of the command center, Prime gazed out across the frozen wasteland of Mars. He came here for solitude, space just to think, just to get a few precious private moments. Instead, the desert merely reflected his own empty desolation. He missed Earth, but duty called him to keep things under preparation. Too much to do and never, never enough time to keep up with it. Everything moved at a steady but slow pace. He hoped to have his objective accomplished by the end of the month.

But his dread was stronger than his hope. With the advent of the Quintessons attacking last spring, Optimus suspected they had more unpleasant things in store for he and his people. For the past twenty-five years the Autobots and Quints had been at each other's necks, fighting battles on and off Cybertron, near and far from this solar system. Now the Quints had taken their battles to a new level, bringing the fighting right at home.

Home. Optimus frowned at himself. Home was supposed to be Cybertron. Home was supposed to be with and among his own people, rebuilding and creating a new future. But all that seemed so unnecessary. His whole life seemed so pointless anymore. Vector Sigma had changed Cybertron. The planet once devoid of life and energy had everything restored just as though the meganiums of war never occurred. That didn't mean the damage had been repaired. Great fissures and gaps existed where Unicron had slammed his hand into the surface, marring and obliterating entire levels. There were the Deadlands, that one part of the planet that had been totally blasted clear away. That section never did seem to take repair, as if those areas were cursed.

Optimus shook his head and tried to refocus. Redial had given him a list of that day's personnel reports, scouting schedules and notes from the away team. Although there didn't seem to be any problems at hand, Optimus' paranoid nature prevented him from resting easily. He knew his people were sick and tired of his demanding they check and recheck and double check and check again. The Quints had taken him completely off guard and he wasn't about to let it reoccur. And yet, a feeling of intense dread filled him; a helplessness that would not ease even when he recharged. A sinking feeling played over and over in his mind like a song he couldn't erase.

A burning sensation eked through his insides and the Autobot leader laid his hand over his chest plates. The Matrix sometimes felt like a poisoned shard, slowly working its way toward his laser core. Rodimus must've sensed it because his soul Brushed against Optimus' mind, gently easing the pain. While the new chip implant blocked the madness that affected the Matrix from them, it could not seem to stop the deterioration that infected both leaders. They had to learn to compensate, leaning on one another for support. The task wasn't easy. It emotionally drained them both.

Optimus' arms fell weakly again and his optics scanned over the vast wasteland of Mars. While turning to each other for strength, he and Roddi knew they could not continue like this. It left Optimus with the unenviable position of choosing between two evils.

He watched as wind picked up outside the shield and stirred the Martian dust. Inwardly, the Autobot leader frowned. All his efforts, all his ideas seemed to matter little. A drop of water in a desert, he thought sadly. Nothing of urgency really seemed to affect him anymore. Very little mattered to him anymore. He shook his head, trying to clear away the despondency, trying to shake off the private death wish. Again Rodimus Touched him but it left him ashamed. Mighty Leader cannot even take care of himself! He thought miserably. But never did Rodimus berate him of it.

GO TO MECHLATEX. It wasn't a suggestion. The Matrix could be rejuvenated there, or at least that's what the Voice had told him. Mechlatex. Why? Why would he have to hear that name again? Perhaps deep down that was what had caused his dour moods. He knew if he ever returned to Mechlatex, he would not leave that planet either in one piece or alive-physically or mentally. The last time he went to Mechlatex, he experienced torture unlike any he had before or since.

No one should be forced to watch as someone else was being torn to shreds. No one should have reality stripped so forcefully from their souls.

"Commander?" The voice brought him out of his day dream enough to lighten the sadness a little. Prime turned right and greeted Redial, Fort Zenith's communications officer. For some reason, the C.O. always seemed nervous and fidgety. The Autobot was a good worker, always pulling his own load and helping someone else. Still, even where he stood, Redial shifted his weight.

"Sir, we're still trying to contact Cybertron and have come up with nothing."

Prime nodded. "I'm sending an away team to Cybertron." Probably should have done that two weeks ago, he thought dourly. "Redial, contact Rodimus. Tell him we're fine and to let Rusti know I'll be home in two weeks."

Redial nodded adamantly and turned. He stopped suddenly and glanced back. "Uh, Commander? I tried to check in on our outpost on Pluto-"

Something sharp bit down into Prime's shoulder and he suddenly reached for it. He found nothing, not so much as a scratch. He withdrew his hand, expecting blood. Nothing.

Rusti.

Redial had kept talking as though he didn't notice the way Prime flinched so suddenly. ". . . I'm not getting an answer there, either and I've tried all afternoon."

Prime blanched, wondering why Redial didn't notice his behavior. Was he merely imagining it? He compensated for the moment: "Keep trying, Redial." He amazed himself how at times he managed to keep his voice so level. "I'm sure they're out doing something. Sandstorm is always goofing off." Redial nodded and Prime watched the C.O. retreat, grateful the Autobot did not ask him if anything was wrong.

Of course something was wrong! Something was always wrong. Someone always needed assistance, something always demanded his attention, his undivided care. Some situation required his time and patience. Always, always there was something more to do. Not enough hours in the day, not enough time at night. Never, never was there enough time for planning and preparation. Everything demanded so much more than what he could give, sometimes even more than that.

Just for a few precious moments Prime wished he were back in his office in Fort Max, doing paperwork and glancing up now and again to find a little girl sitting in a dark remote corner silently drawing, coloring or reading. She'd never say a word, never once interrupted him. But it was a comfort just to have someone else in the room, not really trying to be intrusive or awe-struck or nervous. She'd just sit there hour after weary hour in dead silence . . . Optimus suspected she knew how he enjoyed her company, silent though it was. After all those years of doing his work in solitude, feeling more like a prisoner of the Autobots, rather than their leader, Rusti happened.

What a precious thing, he thought to himself. And I won't have that much longer. He remembered on one or two occasions he would be in a meeting with Ultra Magnus, the moment tensely quiet, their wills butting heads, their tempers nearly matching their stubbornness. And distantly, if he tuned his audios just right, he could hear a little girl skipping merrily down the hall way, singing as she went. He wished he were there to accept a tiny handful of flowers she picked by the lakeside. He wished he could hear her giggle as little girls with light hearts do.

Soon, Rusti would reach that age where she would fall in love and join with her mate and Optimus would see less and less of her as she would find a job and bear children. He knew the thoughts were selfish, but he wished she would stay.

Inadvertently, Prime rested his forehead on his hand. He had given everything to his people, his time, his resources, his life. And what had he gotten out of it all? Moments of despair. The death of friends and loved ones. And fighting. Always the fighting.

Thoughts of their last encounter with The Quintessons touched him. They stole something from him there on the space station. At times, he felt as though he were little more than a walking corpse, devoid of life or feeling. He would Reach for Rodimus then and find comfort. But it was a bandage, not a cure.

Prime mentally sighed. He decided to just keep moving forward. Perhaps things would change for the better.

His comm bleeped and shook Prime to his senses. Fool, he thought, quit feeling sorry for yourself!

"Commander?" Redial's timid voice came over the comm. "There's a call for you on the subspace frequency fifteen."

"Paul?" Optimus asked hopefully.

"Uh, dunno, sir. Didn't say who it was."

Optimus jumped from his perch and hastily made his way to his office/quarters. The Autobots working on Fort Zenith made room, watching Prime pass them as though an emergency had come up. Not that it was the first time, really. Their leader had been jumpy for quite sometime and some Autobots secretly wished they could just tie him down and keep him there indefinitely.

Optimus closed the doors to his office and accepted the transmission. The face on the screen greeted him with a pleasant smile.

"Good morning, Optimus Prime!"

"Paul!" Prime's face reflected delight and anticipation. "What have you got for me?"

"Is it morning there on Mars?"

Optimus crossed his arms, smiling with his optics. "No, Paul. It's late afternoon."

"Damn! Terran time! Always so off of everything else! I'm just going to have to-"

"Paul, you called me for a reason." Optimus directed.

"Yes!" The human male brightened and then laughed. "Optimus, you just don't take teasing very well at all!" He read Prime's grudging glare and laughed again. "Alright, Op! Here. We've finished the plans and ran them through the simulation. Everything checks out perfectly. Even the master unit."

"Endurance?"

"Mmm. Well, that is still an unknown factor. The problem we keep coming up against is that the units aren't Cybertronian-made."

Prime glared in sheer frustration and paced the room, his head bowed in thought. Paul laughed again, the scientist shook a pencil at him. "Prime, will you stop fidgeting? You're worse than a human about to father a child!" His comment was met with a hurtful look and Paul waved apologetically. "Okay, okay, you win. Look, I'm sure things will turn out. It's just that you're so damnedable impatient."

"Time is too short for patience, Paul." The Autobot leader droned. "After all our efforts, none of this may work at all." He sighed and settled against his desk. "I want to be sure of everything. Time is pressing and I don't know how much of it Rodimus and I have left."

Dr. Paul Gates frowned and thoughtfully sat back in his chair. The Project he and Optimus had been secretly working on for the past two years was so close to completion! But they lacked something; an element. It was all they needed. They could get it on Cybertron but: "Are you sure you don't want to send them to Cybertron?"

"Positive. Something is terribly wrong and I fear it could be contagious. No, Paul. The Project must be completed off Cybertron."

"Well, there is one other option. . ."

Mechlatex. Optimus didn't know why he thought of that.

"Mechlatex." Paul finished.

A cold shiver ran through Prime's systems like a slimy electric eel. How did he know? How did he ever know? It drove him nuts when his mind would do that to him. He feebly shook his head.

"It's all I can think of, Prime." Paul defended, taking Optimus' outward signs the wrong way.

"No, Paul, I wasn't disagreeing with you. I just was thinking about Mechlatex." Again the Autobot leader sighed and subconsciously traced his desk with his finger. Then he jabbed its ungiving surface. "I . . . I'm beginning to think that will be inevitable. My life started there. It may end there." Now he talked to himself, not really caring whether or not Paul heard him.

"I can understand your unwillingness to go there." Paul sympathized. "No one I've talked to is particularly fond of it. Especially in the summer time. But if you're adamant about not completing the project on Cybertron, then Mechlatex is the only other option." Paul waited a beat, anticipating some response from Prime other than silence. The scientist scowled. He had known Optimus Prime for nearly fifty Earth years and still the Autobot leader's moods puzzled him. Paul considered himself an adequate expert on judging people's emotions. That included Cybertronians. But sometimes the two Primes would exhibit behaviors that didn't fit any particular pattern. And especially of late, both exhibited dangerous behaviors.

Dr. Gates frowned and gazed at his desktop. He worried for them, for the two Primes. They teetered dangerously on the edge of insanity one minute, suicidal depression the next.

He was painfully aware Optimus had tried to commit suicide once already. Or was that actually the second time? Or the third? The forth? His eyes drifted back to the tall red and blue robot-'Robot, my ass!" Paul thought wryly. These creatures deserve a better class/species name than something manufactured! They were living creatures, not a compilation of Legos! "Optimus.' He softly called.

Prime should have heard him. But locked in thought, the leader remained still as ever.

"Optimus." Paul called again, this time succeeding in dragging Prime out of his inner self. He scowled again when Prime startled and wondered where in his mind the Autobot had retreated. "A decision needs to be made."

Optimus growled. "Very well, Paul. Carry on. But we'll attend Mechlatex when we come to that stage and not a moment sooner."

He was angry! Paul blanched. Optimus was clearly angry! Why? Oh, the scientist knew it wasn't directed at him. But rather than drag a potential skeleton out of a closet, Paul chose to silently nod in agreement. Sooner or later he would find out what Prime's problem was. "That sounds good to me. Stay in touch." He added directly. "And Optimus, you know what my phone number is. Use it, okay?" He rolled his eyes when he read guilt in that expression. Would someone push Prime's reset button, please? Was all he could think of. The thought that Prime needed a good 'lay' came to mind and it was all Paul could do to keep from laughing. He cleared his throat. "I'll call in a couple of days, Optimus." He promised and informally hung up.

Prime thought he heard a snigger in Paul's rushed voice and wondered what was so funny. He shrugged it off and swept up another digipad, finding a report from the medic team. He tossed it hopelessly back on the desk and with a heavy sigh, bowed his head.

No word from Cybertron. At first Optimus made light of it, thinking someone forgot to use the correct channels, or just failed to take notice of time and/or frequency settings. But the silence had passed off into several days. Redial tried contact five and six times an hour four days straight with the same hopeless results. Then he tried to get Pluto. Again silence until a voice came over the com; visual contact was off line. Prime glared at Redial suspiciously when Redial reported a malfunction in the receiver dish on Pluto, that Sandstorm and Onyx were working on it.

The Autobot leader tapped a finger on his desktop, his chin supported by his other hand. His silence made the communications officer nervous and Redial shifted his weight one foot to another. "I don't like it." Prime snarled. "Something's wrong. Something's very wrong."

"Wh-would you like me to dispatch an away team, sir?"

Optimus simply sat there and stared at his C.O., then stared through his C.O., making Redial ever more nervous. Redial rotated the digipad between his hands, shifting his stance and tried to find other things of interest to look at. But every time he would glance back, he'd find Prime still staring at him, boring holes into his chaises. And that drumming! Redial wished he could just nail that hand down!

Optimus finally stopped it himself. "Negative." He answered coldly. "Redial, I want you to arrange a staff meeting in four hours."

"Aye, Sir." The C.O. visibly sighed with relief. "Sir? Uh, I also came to report on Quasar's progress on the xenolab in level three. She says all she has to do is uh . . . 'wire the puppy' and it's operational."

Optimus finally glanced elsewhere, taking in the only photograph that sat on his desk. He silently nodded.

Redial waited for other orders, but Optimus had fallen back to his sullen silent self and the C.O. knew better than to press anything else. Not that what else he had to report was really of great importance, not when Strike Back could handle it.

Redial timidly backed out of the office, going slowly in case Prime had something else come to mind. He stepped out of the office and sighed heavily. Optimus had become so grouchy anymore!

Optimus kept the staff meeting brief and terse. His officers kept sending him puzzled glances and questioned his logic too frequently. After he ordered a battle and escape plan drawn up, all optics sent him a message that his own people were questioning his sanity. But Optimus was beyond that kind of doubt. It was neither the first, nor the last time someone questioned his decisions. Strike Back tried to 'talk some sense' to the Autobot leader, but Optimus was unmoved by his city commander's suggestions. Prime reminded them they all had their orders and he wanted them carried out to the letter. Quasar, the resident femme scientist/engineer seemed to be the only Autobot in the room who did not eye daggers at him.

At least someone trusts me, Prime thought dismally. He dismissed his staff to their duties and ordered Redial not to bother continuance on communication lines. Mars had been cut off.

Two days later, Optimus' suspicions proved correct. At two A.M. Standard Pacific Time, Strike Back reported two-way communications to Earth had been terminated. A half hour later, Redial managed to rig the com system so that Trans Phoenix One could receive radio and television signals from Earth. At least they could watch things from where they were.

Strike Back kept trying to suggest they pack up their bags and head for Earth, or at least send an away team. But Optimus wouldn't hear of it. And he had his reasons, which frustrated and annoyed the city commander all the more. Grudgingly, the Mars Autobot colony kept working, preparing for whatever it was Prime would not disclose.

Thursday morning at about ten-thirty Standard Pacific Time it started.

The reporter was dying of radiation. Prime could tell by the terrible sores on his face. Behind him, the camera picked up the bleak scene of a town leveled by Quintesson star bombs. The idiot reporter risked his life to bring live footage from five American states long since obliterated by Quintesson attacks. All the death, the destruction, the chaos made the Autobot leader sick.

"How did it all happen without warning?" Strike Back asked. "What of the Autobot cities on Earth? What of our friends?" He stared accusingly at his leader who remained motionless, expressionless behind his desk. "Did you know this was going to happen? Why didn't you warn them? Why-"

"Strike Back!" Prime snapped. "There are some things I do not need to disclose to you!"

Rather than backing down like most other Autobots, Strike Back lost his temper and pounded a fist on the desk. "Dammit! You've been hiding behind your little secret for the last week! You've made us reorganize the entire damn city and realign all those weapons alongside the Great Ridge! You've frightened everyone by your intimidating behavior and even now, when everyone is terrified, you won't do so much as talk!"

Prime jumped to his feet, rising to his full height. He too pounded on the desk, but unlike Strike Back, Optimus dented the topside. "Rodimus and I CANNOT be at the same place at the same time! The Quintessons will turn here sooner or later and I will not jeopardize the Project! If anything were to happen to either of us, the other would still be free to carry on! Now you have your orders, COMMANDER! DO IT!

Strike Back flinched at the suddenness of being put in his place. He had ever so rarely heard his leader shout, let alone in anger. And the Project? What was with Fort Zenith that was so fucking important? The Fortress wasn't a super Transformer like Metroplex or Maximus. Zenith was a space port, a center of culture and neutral territory for negotiating deals between the Autobots and other races across the Alpha Quadrant.

The Project?

Strike Back frowned and relented, even looked at bit remorseful. "Aye, sir." He replied quietly. He turned and walked out but took a final daring glance over his shoulder strut and caught Optimus collapsing into his chair, elbows on desktop and burring his head in his hands in exhaustion. It was so annoying, so frustrating that he was told what to do, but never why.

Just for a moment, Strike Back wondered what it was with the Autobots that they depended on two leaders rather than a government like the humans. Perhaps sooner or later there would be a change among their people, disposing of their 'kings' and setting up a rulership by and for everyone.

Just like the humans.

The scene on the view screen flashed pictures of North Dakota. The news said that a neutron bomb had hit, that the half-life would prohibit anything from living there for the next three centuries. Great cities once stood on the surface of that part of the world. Now all that remained were the buildings. No trees, no grass or bird.

Optimus swept up several digipads from his desktop and placed them neatly on an overburdened shelf to the right of his desk. He glanced at the televisor as the scene shifted to Montana. All the beauty of that state was lost forever. The Quintessons missed nothing. Prime returned to his desk and sat on its smooth surface, avoiding the empty stare of his monitor.

The reporter talked about Alaska. The video tape they used flickered. Static covered the scene. Radiation marked the landscape as if Primus had used a piece of charcoal and marred the surface.

Three states. At least, as far as the news could entail. But another thought struck Prime. The Quints weren't hitting states that were heavily populated! Why? Perhaps they had a use for the humans-and that thought made the attack ever more disgusting. If the Quints had a use for humans, if they found a way to control this species of people . . .

A sharp pain ripped Prime through the middle. It twisted inside him, wrenching circuitry and components. He fell off the desk, gasping. Something had stabbed him straight through. For a moment, the Autobot leader lay face down, teetering between darkness and consciousness. He fought it, maintaining his consciousness by concentrating on the light around him. He tried to focus on the news cast, which he was sure was reporting on other sudden strikes; England, Japan, Germany, Africa.

Gradually, Optimus managed to regain control of his body. He trembled with after shock and scanned for blood.

Nothing.

Rodimus.

Optimus remained where he lay, slowly shutting down most of his systems and concentrated, trying to reach Roddi. He touched his friend and they managed to keep moving. That was all that could be done at this point. Rodimus bonded to him, finding enough strength to keep going. At the moment, Optimus had no idea what was happening and Roddi was far too disoriented to tell. "Don't leave me!" was all Roddi could say.

Optimus remained motionless, concentrating on nothing but the bond between them.

Darkness.

But it wasn't a fearful dark. Optimus found himself drifting in a timelessness and for however long he lay there alone, he lay there only scarcely aware of his surroundings.

One by one his systems came on line by themselves. His body chilled with an unnatural cold but gradually, his strength returned and Optimus forced himself to his feet. In the background, he could hear the report from Alaska continue. The video tape had straightened out, displaying a scene of an obliterated town.

Prime made it to his chair, his mind still fuzzy with shock. In front of him the video showed ashes blackening the new autumn snow. The rotting corpse of a bear lay naked.

Prime ignored it, trying to recover. He had taken the brunt of Rodimus' pain, protecting his friend from shock.

The pain faded slowly and Prime managed to sit upright. His trembling slowed, leaving him tired, but with a clearer head.

New Jersey. From satellite, a huge black scar marred the surface of that whole area. Vaguely Prime estimated a sixty-mile radius of devastation. New York would be included in that radius. But the horror of it failed to register. Rodimus lingered on his mind.

Utah. Soft white and grey ash blanked the ground in what was to be a nuclear winter for the next millennium.

Optimus stared aimlessly, not really taking in all the information except the names of the states.

"Screen off." Prime commanded ever so quietly.

Silence.

"Commander?" Redial peeped in through the opened doorway.

Optimus gazed up, recognizing his communications officer only by a stare.

"Um, . . . we've been trying to contact Earth. No word from Magnus. Um, Sagittarius' last transmission was about something falling from the sky, aiming for New Jersey. Nothing more has been heard since." Prime stared silently for the longest time. After three minutes, Redial shifted his weight nervously. "We're still trying communications--"

"There will be no more, Redial." The Autobot commander gravely turned away and his optics fell on the photograph. He hated feeling so helpless. "When will the shuttles be ready?"

"In another hour, I'm told, Sir. Grasper and Ecliptic are putting all their efforts into it--" Redial's voice faded. Prime wasn't even looking at him. Feeling awkward, Redial stepped back, hugging the digipad.

"Hmmm." Prime frowned, "Any luck with Pluto?"

"No, sir. Just static there too."

Silence.

Two fronts.

Redial shifted his weight nervously.

They attacked us on two fronts. Optimus analyzed. How? And with what troops? He thought long and hard, trying to recall all the events in the past year and a half. "They've been planning this for months. They knew right where to hit us."

"Sir, perhaps it's not so safe here on Mars--"

"No such thing as safety, Redial." Prime answered sullenly. He straightened then and the stern look of leadership returned to his blue optics. "Notify Strike Back we're evacuating the city."

"But Commander, the shuttles. Quasar informs me the navigation system's still ineffect-" Redial's voice trailed off when Prime's stare turned toward the ceiling, staring up as though he could see right through it.

"Never mind, Redial. There won't be any time for that now."

And a star bomb slammed into the shields of Fort Zenith.

**TIME: LATE OCTOBER 2038**

**DESTINATION: CENTRAL CITY, OREGON, EARTH**

The weather turned crisp and clear. The leaves were beginning to brown and soon October would end. Rusti left her history class with some trepidation. So far no one in the last few days had approached her about leaving the school grounds. Roddi didn't tell her whether or not he had talked with Mrs. Pollens. She knew Rodimus would give that principal more than an audio sensor full. Rusti smiled to herself. If Roddi were in the right mood, he'd really let that woman have it.

The girl stepped to her locker and hissed in pain when her back pack slipped off her shoulder and tugged at her injury. She knew she was supposed to see Dr. Cynar about it and have him fix it. But Rusti didn't like Cynar. He had the bedside manners of an ox and always talked down to her. The pain subsided and she opened her locker. The mirror in the door betrayed her, clearly showing her make up was not doing much to hide the bruises or the small cuts on her face. Well, she thought dismally, it could be worse. She could have had a black eye and some of her hair pulled out. Rusti smirked; Garth had to have stitches on his tongue!

She pulled out a box of paints and brushes and flinched, surprised she had forgotten the black glove that hid the exo-suit covering her hand.

The girl smiled ruefully. For the fourth day in a row she wore the suit under her clothes just in case another of Garth's friends tried to harass her. Although neither Roddi or Optimus could be with her, or send someone to watch over her, she was still protected.

Several years ago, Dr. Cynar and a team of engineers from England's Fortress Sagittarius had developed a new skin-tight exo-suit allowing humans to maneuver more easily. Using shielding technology, electromagnetic frequencies and liquid oxygen, the exo-suit was presently being tested in space. So far, it had proved worthy of almost any sorry treatment. Rusti was very rough with hers. Playing football with the Dinobots was a nasty enough a job for someone assigned to them. The girl often found herself slammed from one Dinobot to another, almost as though SHE were the football. Once she was caught underfoot by Sludge's clumsiness. Grimlock freaked, but Rusti merely sat up from the little crater the suit made of her shape and resumed the game. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell anyone that the suit was able to take awesome amounts of punishment-even project energy as a weapon.

Rusti was quietly given one for her cultural instruction sessions with the Dinobots. That made her inwardly laugh. Roddi coughed that one up and Optimus approved without hesitation. But if anyone else got wind of it-like EDC, both Autobot leaders would be on someone's 'shit list.'

If anybody tried anything today, they were in for a very big surprise!

She strolled down two halls and took a right toward chemistry. Home Economics was at the other end and in between sat the painting class. She waited while some girl bent over to pick up a fallen book. People maneuvered around and beside her like ants on a trail. A low distant rumbling touched her ears and Rusti glanced out the window.

The sky remained clear and cool. Perhaps just aircraft. But the sound repeated and Rusti took note how the window vibrated just slightly.

An earthquake.

Then in the tree outside the corridor, her sea-grey eyes spotted a gigantic, long spindly leg, much like that of a giant spider. She knitted her brows and maneuvered around students toward the windows.

Nothing was there.

No, something was there: four indentations in the tree's trunk. She studied them carefully, ignoring the five-minute bell. Yard workers climbing the tree? A prank in progress? She shook her head and moved on.

She entered class, spotting Lorraine and her cronies. They didn't look at her, though, and the girl was grateful they didn't try to stir any more trouble-at least for now. Rusti suddenly wanted to find out what happened to Garth. Maybe he was expelled. Most likely she would not know until she no longer saw him in the halls.

She set her materials and back pack at her feet and hauled out a painting she'd been working on for a full week. The canvass before her stood as dark as her moods of late. It reminded her of a place that wasn't a place at all. It told of the cold darkness where she heard a scream so loud that it made her blood freeze. Echoes of that very scream resurfaced in her dreams now and again.

There were spider webs hanging from those ancient walls of metal. Things dangled in their throes, things she dared not guess. And this painting, with its dark thick paint and dry, rough surface, reminded her of that place of evil. The cold colors lay dead. Once the teacher expressed some concern, unable to figure out why she was painting so darkly, so somberly. He'd watch her, ask her questions. She knew he was concerned whether or not she was depressed.

No. Rusti had turned moody. In two weeks, she had seen and felt more than she had ever witnessed in her entire life, and in six months, the somberness had not lifted. This was what Optimus and Roddi were trying to protect her from. This was their world; dark and sinister, where evil had an unmentionable name. It made her moody. But she was not depressed.

Optimus was depressed.

She applied a slim trail of silver-white along the wall on the right side. Electricity traveled in lines along the walls. She kissed the canvass with a little grey on the webstrings, darkening it with deep ruby-red. The web hung heavy with the weight of victims.

Optimus' soul had been split straight down. She had watched it. She felt it all first hand. Rodimus fought it off, able to keep it at a distance only because he was shielded.

But for how long?

She sank her brush in water and dried it. She swept up another brush, an old round brush and just touched a little grey- blue paint. She smeared it over the floor, keeping it light. One minute, two and the illusion of a cold blue fog rolled across the canvass.

Thunder rolled again and this time, the windows above the classroom shook. Everyone glanced up at once, staring at the sky, then at one another. Rusti's heart jumped, her mind instantly on the possibility of an aerial attack. She cleaned her brushes and dumped her water. Some of the other students took her cue and did the same thing.

Boom. It was low-key, but the windows shook again.

Something scratched the wall on the other side.

She looked up with a start, her senses on edge.

Something else tapped the ceiling. Something with spider's legs, perhaps? Rusti glanced about her classmates, noting Jeremy Anoki had brought in his model paint collection. She smiled and their eyes met.

"Yeah, I know." he shrugged. "They're lousy for painting, but I like the colors."

She forced herself to relax, though something inside her screamed in fear. She swallowed it. "I thought you were going to do airbrush, Jer."

He opened two and three tiny glass jars. "I probably should, but I'd have to use a straw for air flow."

She felt inclined to laugh. "Why's that?"

"Not 'nuff air-power, man! If I wanna use air, I want air, a jet stream. Not some sissy gadget that blows!"

She smiled broadly at the sexual joke but her smile died. The scratching came loud and something told her to back off into the corner near the outside exit. Unobtrusively, she responded just as the windows in the hallway were blown in with a thunderous shout. Shards of glass shattered, their tinkling sound echoed as though a bomb had gone off. All the students in the class ducked and squealed in fear. The alarm klaxons wailed and Rusty ran from the door to the wall, knowing everyone was going to try to get out at once.

She was right. All the students poured through both doors and several were suddenly snatched up. They shrieked until silenced and their blood dripped from the rooftop. Heedless, other students ran out preceded by two boys who were pounced upon and crushed by a four-legged creature.

Rusti's pulse raced. She glanced all around the room as screams and shouts resounded around her. Alarms shrieked in her ears and overhead, a helicopter beat the wind. Laser fire blew the ground and parts of the building walls. She leaned against the wall as the remaining students took their chances and left the building. They too began to scream. One groaned and expressionlessly, Rusti listened as his bones were snapped like so many toothpicks. She slid to the floor in a huddle, wrapping her arms about her legs. Sooner or later the attackers would come inside.

More laser fire erupted and the attackers squealed in protest. Hopefully it was the Autobots who had arrived and not the helpless, hopeless city police.

Rusti lifted her head. Suddenly everything around her fell terribly quiet. Distantly she could hear fighting and commotion; the wails of the dying and the screams of the terrified. But here not one sound of crying or crunching of glass or breaking of bones either outside the room or in the hallway. The girl stood and cautiously approached the door. She hesitated a moment, wondering if the attackers were still out in the hall. Something could be out there, silently waiting for her. Rusti inched, closely hugging the wall and doorframe. She just peeped out, scanning as much as she dared. The silence tormented her so that she thought her own heart would give her away. But the further she inched out, the braver she felt until she slipped partly out the door. To her relief-and sadness-she found nothing but bodies, glass, blood and silence.

Ever so warily she stepped into the hallway. Her feet crunched on glass, one foot slid a little on spilt blood. Students and teachers alike lay in pools of their own blood, most of them pierced through the head or breast. Rusti laid her hand on her chest, choking with fear and horror. Carefully, she stepped around them, her heart had stopped beating. Her breath would not come. She knew many of these people by face, if not by name. Nothing like this had ever happened in her life. The Quintessons used to be far away. The battles always took place somewhere else. Now they were here.

Why did they attack the school? Of all places to attack, why here?

Outside, a plane swept low, its rumbling vibrated through the air. Other screams erupted distantly and died until a laser blast hit part of a building. Rusti kissed the floor, cutting her hands on glass shards.

Scrape. Tapp, tapp. Scrape. Tapp, tapp, tapp.

She glanced over her shoulder toward the front end of the hall. There were two of them, tall, with slender black legs and triangular heads. Rusti could not do so much as swallow. Her breath died in her throat. Those things looked very much like the virus that infected the Matrix! Not quite, however. They did not have the chest. Nor did the backs of their heads taper outward. They did have stingers, however, protruding from between a pair of spinnerets.

One creature had hung a teacher upside down. Rusti hoped the teacher had already died.

Neither of the 'insects' had seen her yet and Rusti crawled back toward the classroom. Going out the other way would be far smarter than to face these things. She stood and brushed her bloodied hands on her pants.

She was wrong.

She opened the door and abruptly came face to face with an insectoid. For a moment, she could not move, breathe or think. Its triangular face hung right in hers and it stared at her without eyes or a mouth.

A creepy tearing sound emanated from the sides of its jaws and almost--almost faster than she could duck, a pair of pincers snapped out in front of the creature's face. The pincers clashed with a resounding clatter and a spark of electricity flared between them. Then a mouth opened, as though someone had taken an eraser and wipe out part of the face to reveal its cavernous interior. It yawned as big and deep as her whole head and shoulders. A black forked tongue flickered out. Rusti wished she could scream.

Instead, she slammed the door in its face, dashed out and headed straight for the hallways' back exit. She pushed her way through the pair of broken doors just as another laser blast came, aiming for an insectoid that perched itself on a tree. As the girl ran, the tree toppled over and the insectoid squealed in pain. It blew into half a dozen pieces and part of the building went with it. Rusti ran out toward the football field, hoping she would find refuge there.

But a great shadow fell over her and two terrible black spindly legs crossed her path. Rusti stopped so suddenly that she fell, sliding on her hip.

The great beast hovered over her like a hunter its prey. The girl struggled to her feet, her fear gripping her so that she could not concentrate enough to keep from sliding along the dirt. She managed to her feet, however and stared up. Astride the monster's back sat (if that was the word for it) a Quintesson. It aimed a gun made of glass, filled with sparking energy right at her. "Time for destiny to be fulfilled." its voice dripped.

Millions of pins pricked her skin. She wanted to scream in the worst way, but to her horror, she found she did not even have the physical form to do it! She was stretched, her body twisted and lengthened and desperately she struggled to keep it all together.

Then like a rubber band stretched to its limit, she snapped back together. Her body fell to the ground with a resounding thud and the shock of it knocked the wind out of her. Light fell dimly and just vaguely she could hear muttering not unlike those she heard on the Ellipsis. She forced herself to examine her new surroundings and quailed when a Quintesson's Face of Greed peered at her as though she were a disgusting insect.

"Me'gloth'nik deemov." It snarled. "Dogoglaknakgan."

Another Quintesson floating above harumphed. "Bleedeeeltom. Groogodom dorg."

"Nonsense!" A third Quintesson scoffed in Ancient Autobot. "If we kill It now, we'd have nothing to bargain with. As it stands, this is a prize worth considering."

The first Quintesson pushed Rusti's body around with its tentacle. "Ninety-four point twenty-seven percent possibility she shares a telepathic link with the Autobot leaders."

The Second Quint frowned and folded a pair of its tentacles-a human trait, the girl noticed. "That was discussed on the Ellipsis, however, due to the untimely nature of the space station coming to life, that theory was never proven."

Rusti coughed and tried not to cry out. She didn't want to give them any reason to 'investigate' her further. She moaned, however, fearing the creep who kept forcing her body to roll to and fro would leave her with bruises before they were through.

"The three of you are all incompetent." Came a fourth voice.

Rusti held her head and hid her face, fearful what else they would do or say. Her body shook and she softly sobbed.

"Here we have an advantage over the Autobot leaders, no doubt. However, this Thing might be a link, or a reserve for their living essences, or has anyone else attained that conclusion?"

"Predank Tu'Dromlon, we do not doubt the origin of your theory, but I suggest a sounder assessment of your current analysis."

A tentacle wrapped around Rusti's leg and her whole body was dragged up. Awkwardly she swung her arms for added balance, terrified beyond the ability to scream. But what she saw made her long to scream ever more so; the monster that picked her up like a bug stared at her with one very large, long eye. A mouth connected directly to that eye and the face stretched out over an egg-shaped body like the other Quints, except there were more tentacles and here, if Rusti had been able to pay attention, she would have noticed this Quint had only one face.

"I fail to understand the Autobot's fixed fascination over such small creatures. It's not in their programming to concern themselves with dolls."

"Perhaps something in the Matrix." Quint Number Two suggested.

Predank Tu'Dromlon suddenly looked astonished. He lowered his limb but still dropped the girl. The fall knocked her windless again and her head hurt so that she could not move. "We must proceed with caution." Her captor advised. "We do not want to disturb or anger the Matrix again. We are the results of the last tampering-It cursed us once. It is unpredictable what It will decide to do with us a second time."

Rodimus' day started at the cheerless hour of four A.M. Already he had gone through half a dozen reports pouring in from all the other fortress cities; Metroplex in New York, Sagittarius in England, and the fortresses in Australia and Germany. Most of it was the usual stuff: energon consumption, problems between individuals (only if it were severe), problems between Autobot-Humans relations. There were also the surveillance reports, trade and distribution, security, research and development and communication.

Communications bothered Rodimus the most. They had not heard a peep from Cybertron in over two weeks. Not so much as static. Four days ago he ordered the outpost on Pluto to check in on it, but even Pluto had fallen silent, and the away team hadn't returned from there, either. Worse yet, not one single word good or bad from Mars. At first, Rodimus figured Optimus was revamping the entire communication system. But if that were the case, then why the hell didn't he say something about it? Something was very wrong and because Hubcap, Integer and Sky Lynx hadn't reported in yet, Rodimus was reluctant to send anyone else out. At least for the moment.

The Autobots acted nervously around him anymore. Not that he could blame them, acting like he did yesterday. The Autobot leader frowned deeply. It wasn't his fault he kept receiving these feelings. He thought he was going to stall when Rusti said she heard them too. What was it? Was the Matrix trying to tell him something?

"Yo, Commander!" Blaster called suddenly. It startled the younger leader and he snapped out of his musings. "We got somethin' goin' down, Down Town!"

Rodimus frowned. "Tell Pollins we will discuss this--"

"Nope. Some kinda attack, sir. Quints from the sight and sound of it."

Central City buzzed with life as early as four A.M. as truckers made their way toward Portland or down toward Redding, California. The sun kissed the horizon and before even the mayor had his first of eight cups of coffee, the city roamed with cars and pedestrians, busses (financed solely by Burger Enterprises) and bikes. The 'Ribbon Highway' as so fondly called by the Autobots (who have been known to cruise there) took on the burden of a hundred thousand automobiles every ten minutes. In the nineteen eighties, Central City was a large town boasting of a hundred thousand, twice that during the week day. Now, nearly fifty years later, Central City had become the commerce capital of the western hemisphere.

But today, from the skies, black triangles with tails and triangular heads loomed above it like vultures.

One dove, streaming right for the office building of Light Touch Industries. Its head cocked back then spewed a current of 'hot' plasma. The building blew as though made of glass and for five blocks, traffic came to a sudden halt. People slammed their brakes, either to escape the building as it exploded from the top down in successive order, or to gawk at the black invaders with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

It proved their undoing. Another winged terror dipped from its orbit and zoomed right over the streets, chasing 'flesh creatures' in it wake. It spit fireballs and cars, one, two, three at a time blew away like paper wads dipped in gasoline. A blood-curdling sound emanated from it, a pitch that left many victims deaf and beside them, glass windows shattered. A chain reaction started and one by one, the wind and flying glass shattered more glass, causing more wind and those who could not find cover, were sliced literally to pieces.

Six sleek ships of unknown classification gated from nowhere. Three of those attacked the city with a vengeance, followed closely by the creatures. Building after building exploded with thunderous results, the fragments echoing and ricocheting from one end of a block to another. Each explosion caused a great fire and people died at first by the tens, now by the hundreds.

The situation worsened when a plasma fire ignited and deadly gasses passed over eight city blocks, killing everyone who breathed them. Nosecone and Outback tried to rescue as many people as they possibly could. They ushered many panicked survivors down into the darkness of the subway and tried to fry the mysterious attackers with their laser guns. No good.

Outback turned to his comrade when one of the sleek invader ships swept terribly low and dropped several soldiers. These creatures, like the triangular-shaped things in the sky, stalked the streets in long, black armored bodies. They had triangular heads, but no faces. They walked on legs that ended in spikes rather than feet of any kind. Their hands consisted of two very long fingers and a thumb and all of them held short rifles made of a crystal only the Autobots could guess. Nosecone and Outback waited for them to attack first. Their optics froze with fear and anticipation. They didn't even have a clue as to what capability the guns possessed.

That is, until one creature fired at a building where humans poured out like ants from a log caught on fire. One hit. The whole building blew from the floor level up, eradicating the structure, everyone in it and chunks from all the buildings surrounding it.

Outback and Nosecone flinched. "We gotta give the humans time to escape!" Outback shouted over the resulting winds. "We have to make our stand-"

His words caught the attention of the alien troop and all 'faces' turned toward them. Nosecone's lip components dropped open. He tried to think of a good plan, even as the 'dark ones' advanced, marching with precise and accurate steps over bodies and debris.

"Hole." His voice murmured. "I could dig a trench between us and them, buy us more time."

"Forget it." Outback's patience wore out and he fired at the Payless Shoe Source building, creating a barrier between them. "Come on!"

They ran and about a quarter of a mile south of the city, the Autobots watched as people they tried to rescue a few moments ago pour out of the subway toward the park.

"No!" Outback cried, "Stay underground! They can't get you under there-" But his pleas went unheard and the troops caught up with them.

One blast and a nearby brick building shattered, crushing everyone within twenty feet. Nosecone cried out and fired time after time at the offenders but his x-ray laser pistol did nothing to these black things on stilts. He fired two missiles and was horrified when one dark soldier caught a missile in its hand and crushed it, the explosion doing no more damage than a human crushing an egg in his hand.

A second blast toppled trees, ran through cars and bulldozed escapees like a child running a crayon over paper. The third blast took out Outback and a restroom facility behind him and more humans.

Too afraid to do so much as breathe, Nosecone accepted his fate, knowing he had failed the very people he once swore to protect.

He heard a shriek form words then he heard nothing ever again.

Another dark flier zipped over the city like an angel of death. It approached the I.G. building, nick-named as such because it was the one place humans, Autobots or other visiting aliens considered neutral territory when negotiating trade agreements or peace treaties. The Dark flier circled the building once, swept up high then strafed the structure with fire balls, causing the whole complex to collapse. People leapt from windows to get to safety only to be smashed on the sidewalks or engulfed in flames. The Dark flier made one more sweep, this time aiming right for the ground. It discharged a ball of green light that sparked and flickered. The sphere touched the ground just before the creature did and that part of the city blew, leaving a crater two miles in radius.

The Aerialbots circled the city to get a good estimation of the battle at hand. Silverbolt ordered them to split and take a better look at their enemy. He reported to Rodimus a count of twenty-five 'triangular' ships and fourteen 'sleek' ships. But none of them could get a clear count of the ground troops.

Rodimus clenched and unclenched his fists, his face a stone of concentration and deep thought. He turned to Magnus, Delta and Springer in the command center. "I'm going out there. Magnus, you're in charge."

"No." Magnus's face twisted into fear for his commander. "I should be the one out there. You-" he stopped short, seeing how his arguing wasn't going anywhere with Prime. That look on Roddi's face told him the decision was made and he backed down. Inwardly he growled, frustrated that once either Prime made their mind, it was impossible to change it.

Rodimus read the resignation and turned to Springer and Delta. "Delta, take your people and cover the eastern side. They haven't gotten that far yet. Blaster, inform Silverbolt he's to cover the western area, but not to bother with Chase Airport. I want Slapdash, Sunstreaker and Cloudraker-" Rodimus suddenly cut himself off, his optics locked in a distant but fearful stare. A few seconds of tense silence passed and Delta moved to shake her commander when Magnus held her back and shook his head.

Roddi snapped out of it. His face reflected terror and he turned to Springer. "They've got her!" Without another word, he dashed out of the command center, transforming before reaching the exit.

Springer shook his head and ran after Rodimus.

Delta looked indignant. "What now?" She growled.

"Rusti." Magnus answered flatly. He turned to Blaster. "Patch me in to Silverbolt. We'll need to coordinate things from here." Magnus waited about two beats before glaring at Delta. "You have your orders, captain." He reminded.

Delta defensively crossed her arms. "Commander, I don't see why Prime should waste his time worrying over the life of one human child." Her voice dripped cold, her optic visor took on a light of indignation.

Magnus gazed at the battle captain's hard countenance. Delta was one of the few femmes left of Elita's people. Watching her sister warriors die under Shockwave's merciless tactics had hardened the femme into a cold killer. And Magnus remembered Optimus once confiding that Delta was walking a tightrope. But at the moment, Magnus knew who was in authority and his own fear only served to agitate his people. "On the record, Delta, it's none of our concern.' He growled with a pointed finger. "Off the record, that's an issue between Optimus and Rodimus ONLY. Am I clear on that?"

"Like polished glass." She snarled. "Sir." She added coldly.

Rodimus found the highway marked with potholes and endless wreckage. He scanned each car for life signs as he passed by. Dead. Most of the commuters sat in their cars, either dead from shock, laser attacks or smashed into unrecognizable shapes. For the most part, the attackers left no survivors.

He kept moving right for town, heedless of Springer tagging at his fender. They approached the inner city limits and Roddi noted with some dismay that parts of the Ribbon had been blown completely away and he was hard put to transform at the high speeds to jump the distance then transform almost in mid air (Optimus always managed to pull that off with ease) and land on the other side. Springer had less trouble than he, simply shifting to his chopper mode.

It wasn't until they got off the Ribbon Stretch when something black swept right across Rodimus' path that he pulled himself to a screeching halt. He skidded sideways and transformed, aiming his rifle at the vanished offender. Silently he glanced all around him, making a double glance in every direction. Springer jumped down beside him, his rifle also set on instant attack.

But nothing more happened. And the whole area stood disturbingly silent.

"Ahh, I don't like this." The wrecker growled. "They're playing hide-and-seek. Primus I hate games."

Roddi did not answer him right away. He positioned himself to stand back to back with his friend and waited with scarcely a breath, listening and studying the off-ramp area between the highway and the city. "They know we're here, Springer." He whispered. "They're bating us."

GGGGRRRROGGGG! The throaty sound hit the air as though coming from the ground and three triangular ships swept up from the ground itself and the two Autobots ducked as their attackers swept low and spewed a liquid fire. The overpass and off ramp caught the blaze and blacktop melted like wax. Springer fired first, taking his aim with care, but rapidity. Rodimus tried to examine them as much as he fired at them, finding he couldn't concentrate in both areas. The triangular ships had wings that flapped once, maybe twice only to gain altitude. He also noticed their ammunition came straight from their heads-the ships weren't ships at all, but an unclassified creature!

Rodimus narrowed his optics and wordlessly transformed and blazed a trail right for the inner city. Springer growled at his commander's insane actions and trailed after him, knowing talking Rodimus out of endangering himself would do as much good as giving Sludge an education.

The roadways and sidewalks were littered with wreckage and bodies. Most of the inhabitants either lay dead, or managed to escape the onslaught. However, in a distance, the Autobots could hear explosions and faintly, screams of victims as they met their deaths. Rodimus wanted to help, but . . . Rusti just came first. At least Springer had the courtesy to keep his smart mouth shut.

About half a mile later, the two approached the high school. Rodimus transformed and weighed the situation first. All vehicles were strategically crushed beyond use. All vehicular entryways were either blown into deep trenches or blocked off by what was left of a few busses. Not far from the main gymnasium lay the wreckage of two police aircraft. Bloody messes were all that remained of the pilots. Bodies were everywhere and Rodimus was hard put to remain objective.

"Where is everyone?" Springer's sudden voice nearly made Roddi jump.

"Hopefully escaped." The Autobot leader replied with a forced steady voice. His hopes were dashed when a four-legged creature stepped out of the cafeteria. Rodimus withered in revulsion and horror. The dark faceless triangular head held a victim with a vertical mouth. It moved with delicate needle-point legs and a split-ended tail twitched. Roddi's hand lay on his chest plate in dark memory. His fuel ran cold and he took another step back until Springer's hand rested on his shoulder.

No! No! No! He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream at it, to gain its attention and obliterate it but he couldn't do so much as move! He recalled seeing Optimus' greying body on the other side of the room-he heard the voice of a little girl-and a darker, emotionless utterance answering her tiny voice.

And he remembered how it tried to feed on her and he-Optimus somehow managed to . . .

Something whispered his name and Roddi managed to pull himself back from . . .from what? From what?

Before he could think of an answer, two figures strode out of the wreckage of what was once the music department. Striding on two legs which tapered into fine points, they bore guns of what looked like quartz crystal. Their heads also resembled triangular shapes and their chest cavities matched the four-legged creature. Rodimus barely had time to examine them just before one of them fired. The Autobots ducked as a stream of light shot over their head modules and plowed into buildings, trees and whatever else might have gotten in the way. Holes remained where the light passed through.

"Wow!" Springer remarked. "Get me one for Christmas!"

Laser fire from above obliterated one biped creature, shattering it like so much glass. Rodimus and Springer lifted their optics and found Brainstorm hovering above them. On cue, the Autobot leader fired at the two remaining invaders, leapt forward under Brainstorm's cover and searched the grounds. Springer transformed just as three triangular ships swept in and fired at them.

"Keep them busy!" Roddi ordered. He nearly startled when one biped appeared from nowhere. He transformed and plowed into its black body, slamming the creature straight into the walls of the science department. He shifted back and ignored the dozens of bodies; the pools of blood and mangled forms of teachers and students alike. Rodimus kept his direction set on one girl.

"Rusti?" He called, unsure she'd even hear him. He tried to Call her, even to Sense her, but he received nothing. As if she were dead, silence was the only thing he received.

Primus! RUSTI! his mind screamed. Above him Springer and Brainstorm zoomed and fired, dodging and barely evading cross fire. Almost heedless of the noise above, the Autobot leader began digging through rubble, hoping to find an unconscious but living girl.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing!

More bodies and he paused long enough to scan them for life signs. But only death met his hopes.

BUT I ASSURE YOU, FELLOW CREATURES, THAT THE TRANSFORMERS ARE BY NO MEANS ALIVE. THEY APPEAR ALIVE TO THEMSELVES, STEALING CULTURE AND IDEAS FROM OTHER RACES IN ORDER TO FULFILL THEIR IMITATION PROGRAMS. I'VE EVEN HEARD THAT THEY BELIEVE IN--HAHAHAHA-A GOD."

The memory shot through him like a frozen arrow. Rodimus stiffened and again reached for his chest plates. He felt his systems 'blink'. A taste of death? A fear that grasped at his core-oh what coldness!

He drew a breath of air to force his systems active.

"IT'S A SAD FATE." A soft voice sounded in his audios. "THE COMPUTER DOESN'T REALIZE THAT FOR ALL ITS ABILITY TO IMITATE AND INITIATE, IT'S STILL ONLY A MACHINE. A PROGRAM IS ONLY AS SOPHISTICATED AS THE CREATOR. AND IF THE CREATOR IS ONLY A CREATURE . . . WELL, NOW, A CREATURE CANNOT CREATE SENTIENT LIFE, NOW CAN IT?"

Me, Roddi struggled. I'm alive! I'm not a machine! Not a machine!

"NINETY-TWO POINT SEVEN PERCENT PROBABILITY THE COMPUTER REFUSES TO BELIEVE THE TRUTH."

"UNFORTUNATE. WE WILL HAVE TO DELETE THE ENTIRE PROGRAM AND START FROM SCRATCH. THE WHOLE EXPERIMENT WAS A FAILURE TO BEGIN WITH."

"No!" Rodimus shouted to no one in the area. "Stop it!"

"The clay shouts at the potter. It knows no better, but it rebels. This is grievous."

"CAN WE NOT SAVE IT?'

"NEGATIVE. IT IS BROKEN. MUCH LIKE THE OPTIMUS PRIME PROGRAM. THAT TOO IS NEARLY DELETED."

"Bastards!" Rodimus snarled. He stood and kicked an entire wall flat. "Get out here and show your fucking cowardly selves! GET OUT HERE!"

Someone sighed behind him and Prime turned to face a pair of Quints. One Face of Death glared at him, fangs protruding longer than usual. The other snarled at him with the Face of Hate.

"THIS IS CERTAINLY A NUISANCE." Hate injected.

"WE WILL HAVE TO COMPLETELY RESTART THE PROGRAM." Death agreed. "PERHAPS WE COULD SALVAGE SOME SMALL PORTION . . . THE PROGRAM'S SHELL, PERHAPS RATHER THAN A FULL RECONSTRUCTION OF ITS OUTER SHELL."

Rodimus' breathing increased and again his systems 'blinked'. The Quints stared at him as though he were a test animal. He actually felt a rod of darkness press through his brain casing and slide into his soul, lodged there like a medical instrument. It hurt and Roddi fell to his knees, unable to move or cry out. Slowly he managed to press his hands to his head and tried desperately to mentally push the thing out. Not once did he take his optics off the two freaks before him. They continued to stare.

Another black icy rod penetrated his chest and the pressure began to crush his laser core.

Finally he found the strength to scream and he slammed his fist into the ground, then swung it right and smashed part of the nearest hallway.

BLINK.

A Quintesson sighed and Rodimus found himself alone with one Quint-one with the Face of Deceit turned toward him.

"REALLY, NOW, RODIMUS PRIME. WE WERE EXPECTING SOMETHING A LITTLE MORE CIVILIZED FROM YOU."

Rodimus growled and leapt for his mental attackers. He was met with a four-legged freak standing as high as Sludge. It deflected him easily enough, but only enough to enrage the Autobot. Rodimus pulled his gun out of subspace and fired. The aim was true enough, but the alien made a curious noise and a shield shot up between them, again deflecting Roddi's attack. Then it charged him. Rodimus ducked, using the creature's weight against itself. It unexpectantly crashed into the school's math wing and the Autobot leader ripped up a piece of railing, utilizing it like a javelin. He swung and when the creature moved to dodge, Roddi fired, catching his opponent off guard. It crashed into another section of the math wing, obliterating the whole front window section, its spindly legs went flying. But it rebounded almost as fast, spitting at the Quintesson that stood and watched the whole procession.

Rodimus took that precious moment to examine the area he fought in. Nothing here but ruins and bodies. A few trees and brush did nothing to give him an advantage over this creature. He needed room and time. AND WHERE WAS RUSTI?

That cost him. The alien slammed into his body and Rodimus smashed head first into the rest of the science department. He forced himself up just as he heard an odd scratching sound. He glanced over his shoulder strut just to note the creature had shifted to a biped position and held a gun to his head. Rodimus' first impulse was to roll. But he wasn't on flat ground. His next impulse was to kick the weapon out of the alien's 'hands', but he wasn't in the right position for that either.

Instead of firing, the creature bent over and clamped a pincered hand round Roddi's neck and hauled him to his feet. It brought him right to its triangular face and stared right through him. Its featureless countenance glared at him like a nameless abyss.

Something dark touched him and Roddi mentally withered away and tried to hide his face from it. And for a moment, a very long moment, he thought he was drowning. He gasped for air and mentally reached to hide from a darkness that was already in his soul. It sliced his heart and he found himself struggling and weeping.

"No." Something softly spoke inside. "Blasphemy is not permitted here."

Child of Primus.

Child of a god of light.

Chosen of the Matrix.

YOU WILL NOT TOUCH THE CHOSEN.

Rodimus was thrown aside with little more effort than if he were a toy. He smashed into the school's front office roof, the wind knocked from him. After a moment of screaming at himself, Rodimus gathered enough strength to scamper to his feet. He could hear the creature stomping toward him, taking pot shots, blowing debris and wreckage in every direction to scare him off. Roddi swung around and tried to recall his weapon but something had blocked his access. The pot shots came close, grazing his arm. Roddi cussed and back flipped onto the parking lot, slipping into transformation and speeding away. To his horror, the creature snapped and popped its joints and dashed after him! He raced down the street and took an adjunction to the freeway access into the greater part of Central City.

"Rodimus!" Springer called.

"No! Stay back! This is my fight. You and Brainstorm look for Rusti!" Pause. "Springer? Springer?"

No response. Rodimus switched to another frequency and failed there too. But Springer flew above him, diving just enough to avoid trees and buildings.

At the moment, Rodimus was able to keep away from the alien. He could not believe how closely it resembled the Matrix virus! What was it? What connections did it have with the Quintessons? Did they create that? They boasted about creating the virus. But this? It even seemed to defy them somehow in that precious moment.

Rodimus took a right on a down ramp and entered a short tunnel, hoping that here he could loose the thing in the underground fork. He kept his headlights off, using only his scanners to guide him through the quarter-mile tunnel. He took a right, knowing it would take him right to the center of town. He came up into the open and swung a hard right, aiming for the Cascade Multi-Mall, a three-story shopping mall with a dream parking lot-courtesy of Burger Enterprises. At least it would buy him a little time.

Over and over and over he tried to Find Rusti. He searched as far and wide as he believed their link allowed, but still received no response. He started to panic and nearly crashed right into a divider on the second level. He pulled to a stop and transformed, finding a sturdy pillar to lean against. This was very taxing, emotionally and mentally. Above he could hear Springer zoom over and pass the mall, making sure he did not give away Roddi's exact coordinates.

Then stillness.

Rodimus squatted down and tried to calm himself. He had to think! What was to be done? Was Maximus being attacked too? And if so, why hadn't anyone contacted him yet? What about Mars? Why hadn't they heard anything from Prime?

He didn't see energy chains swing up behind him. They snaked out and gripped his neck, yanking him down. Another set pinned him flat to the cement. As useless as it was, Rodimus struggled until his optics fell dark.

Light.

He found himself in a factory. Computer consoles lined the walls. Tables stood at one end of the room, a large view screen at the other. Rodimus was bound to the wall in the middle. Cables streamed in and out his body. Two Quintessons examined him. A third entered the room, scanned him with a circular device then silently left.

"TWENTY-THREE POINT OH TWO PERCENT INDICATES THE AUTOBOT'S FILE ALLOCATION TABLES ARE SERIOUSLY FRAGMENTED. ATTEMPTS MADE TO DEFRAG HAVE FAILED DUE TO THE NATURE OF THE 'DROID'S RESISTANCE. FURTHER SCANS INDICATE THIS UNIT MAY REQUIRE REPLACEMENT SOONER THAN WE ANTICIPATE." This one stared at him with its face of DECEIT.

"UNFORTUNATE. SUCH A NEW UNIT. THIS WILL PROVE COSTLY IN PRODUCTION AND DISTRIBUTION TIME." The other Quint's face of Greed frowned, not bothering to look at Rodimus.

"GK." Roddi cussed in his own native tongue. "Quit screwing with my mind and tell me where Rusti is." He snarled.

"THERE IS NO ONE NAMED 'RUSTI'." The first Quint answered matter-of-factly. "WE ENCOUNTERED NO ONE BY THAT DESIGNATION."

"I'm talking about a human girl." Rodimus clarified. He wondered if he had to give them an education of Planet Earth, too.

Deceit sighed tiredly. "GLANCE AROUND YOU, SLAVE. YOU ARE MOST CERTAINLY DELIRIOUS. IF YOU INSIST ON THIS COURSE OF ACTION, WE WILL BE FORCED TO REPLACE YOU AS A PRIME UNIT AND RECYCLE YOU EITHER FOR MATERIALS OR MAINTENANCE. WE HAVE BEEN PATIENT."

Rodimus realized he was no longer at the parking lot, but in some factory on Cybertron. His body, what there was of it, connected to hundreds of systems both functional and communicational. Only his head and torso remained untouched. He fought it, struggling to free himself of the horror. "No!" He cried out. "No! I am Rodimus Prime! Leader of the Autobots!"

"NO SUCH THING." Deceit argued calmly. "YOU HAVE MALFUNCTIONED AND CREATED AN ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAM FOR YOURSELF.

"No! This isn't real!'

"WHAT YOU'VE CREATED ISN'T REAL. YOU ARE MALFUNCTIONING. HALF THE SECTOR IS DOWN AND YOU ARE THE CAUSE."

"No! No! This is Central City, Oregon!"

"YOU ARE IN OCTRON, SERVING AS ITS PRIME UNIT. NOW DELETE YOUR ENTERTAINMENT PROGRAM AND RETURN TO YOUR DUTIES AS ORDERED OR WE WILL TERMINATE YOU."

Rodimus bowed his head. "Optimus." He whispered. "No! I won't believe this bull shit! It's not real! It's not true! It never happened!"

"YOU ARE NOT IN THE POSITION TO DETERMINE REALITY FROM YOUR FANTASY, SLAVE. YOUR ONLY CONCERN IS THE MAINTENANCE AND SECURITY OF THIS SECTOR. IF YOU FAIL TO COMPLY WITHIN THREE NACTROSECONDS, YOU WILL BE PULLED OFFLINE-"

RODDI, JUST LISTEN FOR MY VOICE.

Oh, so weak. So soft. But it was sweeter than any music Rodimus heard. He focused entirely on that and shut off his optics, focusing ever harder until he Found her. He glanced in the direction of the little sound and found Rusti laying face down. She looked dead. His systems froze in fear and reflexively, Roddi Reached for the girl at his feet. Feebly, Rusti moved, perhaps merely shaken, but not injured, or so he hoped.

A light tapping etched behind him and Rodimus glanced up, finding himself in a park rather than a mall parking lot. He turned to face a very different spider-like creature and a Quintesson perched comfortably on its back. The Quintesson stared at him with its Face of Hate, its horns and pointed chin gleamed cold in the late October sun.

"It would seem, Rodimus Prime, we are beyond talk."

"I didn't know the Quintessons were capable of stooping to lower levels. Attacking children, now?" He made his voice as cold as he could, which, although hard-edged, hardly sounded threatening. The attack left him weary.

The Quint's optics narrowed, "The rest of the retro-rat-like species can go to Torments, for all we are concerned, Rodimus Prime. Consider this a preamble of things to come. The attack and destruction of Space Station Ellipsis was an unforgivable act. We will not tolerate--"

"Wait a minute!" Rodimus took to his feet. "It was you jerks who kidnapped Optimus Prime and the two children! We are not responsible for the station coming to life. If you have that much of a grudge, I suggest you take it up with the Matrix."

"The problem with that is, the Matrix has two living vessels, perhaps three, if we count the event regarding the station. Therefore, in order to correct the problem, we have to eliminate the chain of command." The Quintesson aimed its gun at Rusti but did not get much further.

Springer leapt from nowhere and knocked the alien off its mount. The two crashed into a pile of smashed trees and the Quint tried to scamper. Springer held on to its tentacles as it dragged him across a tennis court and into the left wing of a damaged museum.

The abandoned spider screeched and forced itself to stand on its back legs. To Rodimus' horror, the shell covering its chest and thorax cracked open and swiveled. Its head flipped down, revealing another head. From subspace, it produced a slick silver rifle.

"Roddi, duck!" came a scream in his head. The Autobot commander did so just as a burst of energy emitted from the weapon. The blast, obviously not of Quintesson or Transformer make, sliced through the air, splitting molecules and creating a thunder clap in its wake. The released energy shot across the street, blowing away two hotels in its path and four apartment buildings thereafter, ending with a terrific explosion in the gut of a diesel truck three streets away.

Rodimus stared in shock at the thing and its weapon. The alien took a bold step, the gun pointed at Roddi. It fired and the Autobot threw himself backward in a half-handspring, half-cartwheel fashion. He swung low in a roundhouse kick, knocking the alien off its delicate legs and fired, using his arm guns. The creature rolled to recover but not before Roddi yanked up a light pole and lodged it straight into the creature's back, pinning it deep into the ground. The creature's body shivered in shock and Rodimus yanked the deadly weapon from its hand.

"Rusti?" he called aloud.

"Here." came her little voice. Rusti had been dragged and stretched from one dimension to another. She awoke in pain and exhaustion, able to do little more than remain where she lay. She found herself pinned under rubble. At first, terror struck her. She thought she had been buried alive (one thing she's always been fearful). She struggled to crawl out from the ruins of the museum, but her body simply would not do as much as she wanted. Rusti managed to pull herself out of one pocket, only to lay flat in another. She was just too tired. Her eyes closed by themselves and she would have fallen asleep had the noise of crushing walls and bending timbers not sounded. Much of the building lifted harmlessly from her and in another moment, Rodimus gathered her in his arms. All she could do was lay quietly.

Springer lighted above the rooftop remains in helicopter mode and transformed. An opaque blue fluid covered his body. "Well, that was exciting." He quipped. "What's next? Snake monsters?"

Rodimus shot him a sharp look but said nothing. Springer ignored it anyway and glanced about them. The park, or what was left of it stood deadly silent. Not one tree stood undamaged. Not one building seen anywhere stood unmarked by the invasion.

"Let's get out of here before more company arrives." Rodimus maneuvered out of the park to transform when a whisper came riding on the wind. The whisper suddenly turned violent, throbbing with force and a terrible might not unlike the voice of a living god. The horrible thunderous roar pushed and shoved at the Earth, shifting and pummeling all the flimsy man-made structures. Buildings collapsed like a deck of cards. Trees snapped like so many tooth picks. Vehicles bounced and parts of the asphalt ripped like old worn cloth.

The cataclysmic sound shattered Roddi's audios, throwing his gyros off line. He fell to his knees and tried to protect the little girl who lay unconscious in his arms.

Not for eight seconds did the sound finally abate. It left both Autobots shaking. Rodimus forced his senses together, trying to piece them like a puzzle missing too many links. He lifted his optics and found the remains of the city nearly leveled. He shuddered, suddenly cold from shock. For several long moments, he could not bring himself together. Too much overload in too short a time. He slumped for a moment and concentrated. It took another few minutes, but managed enough strength to stand. He gazed back at the surroundings and stepped back in horror.

"What was that?" Springer asked behind him. His voice sounded more like a squeak. He trembled and folded his arms about himself.

"I don't know." Roddi managed.

"It's as if a bomb had gone off somewhere." Springer fought his body by glancing everywhere around them. The city, for the most part, was leveled. Springer didn't realize his mouth hung open until he turned back to Roddi. "H-how the hell did we survive that?"

Rodimus' optics narrowed. "It seems the Quintessons have declared war on us, Springer. We'd better head back to Maximus."

"Through that?" The wrecker trounced down street, hopping over a few chunks of broken asphalt and a car sunken into a fissure. His optics scanned the rest of the city, his mind still wondering how on Cybertron he and Rodimus survived when the rest of the city did not.

The Matrix, perhaps? Nnnnno. Optimus was on Mars. Springer glanced back at his friend and found Roddi carefully attending Rusti. He had lain her on what was left of the park's grassy turf and scanned her. He seemed so careful, so attentive, as though she were his own child. Rodimus softly spoke to her first in English, then in Autobot. He called her name, then her pet-name. He called her again in Autobot and ever so quietly, Springer could just barely hear her answer Rodimus' call. The wrecker shook his head, incredulous. Not many humans could pick up the Autobot's native language. And that girl had been speaking it as though born to it.

Springer frowned at himself. He didn't know why he should be so surprised. After all, he was witness to her incredible power. He was there the day she stopped the two Primes from killing each other. She forced the two leaders to completely shut down.

And to this day she claims she still doesn't remember. How could anyone forget something like that? Yeah, yeah. The wrecker heard all about Cynyr's report regarding the amnesia occurring when she fell. Springer was there to see it. It was he who tried to get between Roddi and Prime to begin with. It was he and Magnus who . . . he shuddered. The insanity . . . the things Rodimus and Prime would say! The evil things that they spoke of-alternate realities? (Alternate, not parallel) Creatures so terrible they had no names? Forces and entities and . . . and a darkness that descended over Maximus and spread across Earth. Springer had to purge it all from his mind. Perhaps Rodimus was right. No one should say anything to Rusti regarding those events. She should never remember the sun being blotted out. She should never recall Optimus kidnapping her, using her as a tool to get to Rodimus. She should never remember how the walls within Fortress Maximus would twist into contorted faces of those who lived in the past.

Matrix memories, Optimus said the Matrix remembers everything and forgives nothing. And the things that they saw and the things the two leaders spoke of-a darkness of their collective past and the darkness of a possible future and the horrors of alternate realities and how they could collide like dice bouncing on a craps table.

Springer again shuddered. Between the two leaders was this little girl who fought so fiercely for them. You don't say more than two words against the Primes without getting a mouthful from her.

Static shocked the air and Springer jumped down beside Rodimus who took Rusti. The two glanced around, wondering what had caused the snapping sound. A terrible blinding light flashed from nowhere and the muttering thunder of engines touched the airwaves.

To their horror, the Autobots watched as the sky tore open, wounded as though by a powerful telekinetic. From within the tear came a huge silvery-black ship. Its surface had no markings. The design was unlike anything found in the entire quadrant. Sleek, black, deadly, it bespoke of an origin Rodimus could not recall.

A shaft of light shot from the ship to a pile of rubble before the two Autobots and the face of a Quintesson only Rusti had seen before appeared.

At first it spoke in a language neither Autobot knew. Then the translation followed in Autobot:

"Slaves, attention: reconstruction begins in minus fifteen cycles."

Neither Roddi nor Springer had any idea what that meant. At least until the ship produced a pair of mean cannon turrets atop its super sleek structure. The Autobots could actually hear the guns power up and the two dashed over the rubble, aiming for the nearest, clearest roadway. They found one not more than a quarter of a mile and transformed. Springer flew above Rodimus, but remained close to his leader. They sped away at top speed, heedless of what they were running over.

No sooner had they reached a two-mile mark than the huge dark ship fired. The explosion echoed with a force that gouged the land and hammered the air as though splitting its very molecules. The resulting violence forced Springer to shift in mid air and plunge hard on his axles. He grunted with impact and nearly skidded across the road. He recovered and tailed Rodimus like a parasite.

The land groaned and tremored with shock beneath Roddi's tires. He could feel the force of the blast echo over the earth's crust and because of their mountainous location, he knew the aftershocks would come and reverberate-an earthquake was bound to hit. Without a word to Springer, he increased speed, aiming for home. He hoped to find the city in one piece.

Rusti slumped in the passenger seat and tried in vain to keep her eyes open. The call was far too close and she thought for sure the Quints were going to kill her. So why didn't they? What was their reason for releasing her? If they knew of her connection with the Matrix, why didn't they hold her for closer study? The girl wordlessly rested her head against the door. Her thoughts drifted aimlessly toward Optimus and she felt her mind fall into an abyss of darkness and silence.

3÷57.8... IT'S TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE FORMULA FOR SENTIENT LIFE!

SHUT IT OFF!

I CAN'T!

PNUMA. BREATH. THE BREATH OF LIVES.

"3÷57.8... He never saw the whole equation."

She stared deep into his dark triangular eyes and thought she could see entire universes. "Why?"

"IN ONE REALITY THE AUTOBOTS WORSHIP THEIR LEADERS AS THOUGH THEY WERE GODS."

"Is that a bad thing?"

But her question went unanswered. Her eyes fluttered open and she watched the road with a numb consciousness. Rusti tried to recapture her dream but it drifted off.

Except the equation. "3÷57.8... He never saw the whole equation." Who was 'he'? And who was talking? Who was talking to her?

"Rus?" Roddi kindly called.

She said nothing. Her eyes drifted slowly to the alien dashboard and blinked. She did not have to say anything, his scanners would tell him she was listening.

"Rus, I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. Are you alright?"

Sleep demanded she closed her eyes. A little nap sounded good right now. Just a little sleep and the girl thought for sure she'd be fine. After all, she was with Roddi and he'd make sure nothing would happen to her . . . Distantly she heard him call her name again. Something about 'concussion' drifted aimlessly across her mind.

She didn't know, she didn't care.

Her eyes fluttered open momentarily as the seat adjusted itself, slowly falling back so she could rest a little more comfortably. The safety belt slipped across her by itself and for a moment, Rusti felt Rodimus' soul embracing her.

Springer rounded a smashed Wal-Mart truck and steered beside Rodimus. "You've got to tell our fearless leader to stop inviting his intergalactic buddies to hold their parties here."

His joke fell flat on Rodimus. I've been trying to contact Blaster. Have you tried?"

"Waitaminute." Springer muttered. Roddi waited a beat, then two. "Sorry, Roddi." Springer came back. "Seems nobody's home and they forgot t' turn the answering machine on."

Rather than answering, Rodimus silently tried to contact Delta and Sling Shot. "I'm not getting an answer from anyone, Springer. I think all our long-distance communications have been jammed."

"See?" Springer teased. "I told you we should have changed phone companies."

About fifteen miles between downtown Central City and the turnoff leading to Fort Max, the road lay ripped by laser fire and a few well-placed bombs. Rodimus tried not to scan the bodies belonging to Wheelie, Tailgate and Slider. From the look of their chassis, the Autobot leader could already tell what happened to them. Wheelie's body had been partially melted by 'liquid fire' and now lay as a part of the pavement. It hurt to see the little fellow in such a condition and Rodimus hoped it was a quick and painless death. Tailgate lay in five pieces, the pieces missed pieces and some parts littered that side of the road. Slider lay off to the side in robot mode, his hand still rounded the handle of his weapon. An ugly black hole smoked from his brain casing.

Acid.

Just over the next mountain lay the great city of Fortress Maximus. Even at this three-mile distance, Rodimus and Springer could tell a battle raged like a storm. Both could hear laser fire, the thunderous explosion of bombs and shouting. Springer even picked up the sounds of Skyfire's engines as they roared over the city. He copied Rodimus as the Autobot leader slowed. Roddi was considering their next move.

"I'm trying to make contact." He told Springer, "But no one is answering." He pulled to a stop but did not transform.

"Should we try the back entrance?" Springer suggested. Or come in from the lakeside?"

"I hope Maximus had enough foresight to transform to battle mode." Rodimus growled. It wasn't the answer Springer wanted. But Roddi was taking Rusti's safety into consideration.

"If we get in there in one piece." Springer returned. "If not, you'll have to give Chromedome my badge collection."

Rodimus frowned inwardly and fumed silently. He needed to be there with his people, although he knew Magnus was handling the situation just as well as he would have. Should they go in, lasers blazing, or pull a fast one and surprise a few?

Rusti's eyes opened the minute Rodimus had stopped moving. She stared up at the rooftop, her head a little clearer. Her shoulder hurt and her stomach told her it was late, somewhere around six, maybe seven P.M. She sat up and stared distantly out the window, squinting her eyes at the oncoming darkness. On the horizon stars began to appear. But some of them fell right out of view and the girl thought it odd that meteors should fall so frequently. She batted her eyes. Wrong!

The seat snapped up behind her and she settled against it, neither she nor her protector said anything in greeting. Roddi had his mind elsewhere. She kept staring out over the mountain tops noting with alarm more and more meteorites kept falling. The sight looked as though someone had orchestrated it for her pleasure. Something inside her told her something else was occurring: the satellites around the planet were falling out of orbit. Uncertain of her assumption, the girl stretched out toward them, trying to contact something. In her mind, the images unfolded, enlarging themselves like photographs on a screen. She concentrated, moving to another level of consciousness at each attempt until the image came to her in crystal clarity: three satellites fell from their orbits, their circuits gutted out. Another satellite limped through space as though something had eaten into it. It lost its trajectory and fell. Its surface became white-hot as it seared through the atmosphere, a trail of smoke followed until it crashed on the shorelines of San Diego. The sudden loudness of the crash shook Rusti and she startled.

Roddi picked up on her sudden surprise. "Rus?" He whispered.

She batted her pretty grey eyes. _Roddi?_ She didn't realize she was calling him telepathically.

_What is it, Lady-friend?_ he responded in kind.

The satellites 'r all messed up. Looks like something ate them.

Rodimus was shocked to hear her say such things. She's made wild observations before, but not to this degree. Rodimus forced himself to remained calm. What do you see?

_Dunno. Sorta funny. One looks like it's all gutted-out, as thought ripped apart with a hooked object. The solar panels 'r all bent. She gazed further, her attention drawing close to the moon. Roddi, the sky spy's been wiped. There's nothing there._

_Are you sure, Rus? Can you take a closer look?_

Rusti raised her eyebrows at the challenge. She concentrated harder, trying to imagine the rocky, craggy surface of the Earth's natural satellite. There she found a huge black hole yawning where a communications center once stood. The wave tower bowed as though someone bent it over like a spoon. Yeah. The Com center is gone, Roddi. I don't think we can count on any communications between bases here or on Mars.

Something caught her attention from the corner of her eye and in the side view mirror, she spotted a pair of black sleek unmarked jets gliding up over the hill. She turned in her seat to look with her unaided eye, as though she could not believe what she was seeing. Her eyes shot widely. "Rodimus!" she whispered.

He did not answer her. She watched in horror as the things snapped out pincers in the front of what was their heads. Their mouths opened, revealing double rows of vicious long silver teeth. They gleamed cold in the darkness. Rodimus and Springer poured on the speed, rounding the mountain. They raced to the crest of Border Bend where the hill dropped into the valley basin occupied by Autobot City. Both Autobots bolted across a large bridge between Caravan Hill (the eastern-side entrance) and Fortress Maximus. They slammed right through the check-in gate as one 'ship' fired at them, blowing the check stand containing a dead Autobot officer. Springer shifted and flew into the city, meeting a battle already taking place. Rodimus approached a broken docking ramp and Rusti held her breath as he accelerated even faster and effortlessly cleared the twenty-foot gap. Their followers were met by Targetmaster Blurr and Autobot Femme Simultan.

Fort Max was not in battle mode.

"Rodimus!" Rusti breathed. A building fell as though a black hole had opened right underneath and swallowed it whole. Another building-a training facility for young EDC recruits-slipped sideways. Nothing was firing at it.

"What's going on!" Rusti lost her breath at the sight. Rodimus ascended to the first level of the city and headed north, away from Cen Com. "Roddi, why are you heading this way?"

"Emergency throw switches are kept under the human sector."

"I didn't know that."

"It was a redesign Optimus and I worked on prior to our Infection. Optimus had suffered from visions concerning the Quintessons months before their first attack when your dad was still a little kid. So over the years following the creation of the Target/Headmasters, he began a series of plans for hidden defense systems in the cities."

Rusti blinked slowly, amazed that Optimus would find time to plan ahead. "Has he always been like that, Roddi?"

"Like what, kiddo?"

"I dunno . . . paranoid?"

Rodimus chuckled a little. "Try bearing the Matrix for a few weeks. It'll give you new meaning to the word 'paranoid'."

"What's that mean?" Her question went unanswered. The road before them exploded and Rodimus slammed on his breaks, skidding several yards toward the gulf. His momentum nearly forced him over the edge of the road. His front tires fell over and Rusti screamed, fearful they would fall right over.

"Shhhh." Rodimus didn't need her to panic too. "Rusti?" He called softly.

"What was that? Who attacked us?"

"Rusti, open the door very carefully. Very carefully."

Her heart pounded, knowing they were dangling a good half mile from ground level. "Okay." Her voice whimpered. She slowly opened the door and carefully stepped out. Cracks covered the metallic road. Electric cables and fiber optics hung exposed to the air. All around them explosions and cries echoed across the city. The night flashed with the lightning of bombs and laser fire. The air boomed with jet engines and screaming missiles. A fire in Sector Three blazed, lighting that part of Fortress Maximus. It was actually a pretty sight, but how many Autobots and Humans were killed there, or lay dying?

Behind her Rodimus transformed and rolled over on his back. He pulled himself up and gazed at the area with her. "I can't believe this." He moaned. "No warning. No shots fired. No communications or anything in regards to an invasion. Nothing from Gate 09-A. No word from Pluto. No word from Mars. Why didn't Optimus try to communicate with us?"

Rusti gazed back at her friend. "Maybe because he was attacked first."

Roddi's optics narrowed. "Or something else happened and he didn't want to distress me about it."

"Maybe he was cut off just like we are."

Rodimus couldn't decide.

A new eruption of light shot up from below them and as Roddi and Rusti watched, a worm-like creature emerged from beneath the city, digging its way through the metal as a maggot through a carcass. Rodimus jumped to his feet.

"That's IT!" he cried. "That's what we've been hearing!" He slid his hand into his arm and from subspace produced a line and grappling hook. His first attempt to toss and catch the other side failed to take hold. He tried it again and managed to get a good enough grip. "Come on, Lady-friend. We're outta here."

Rusti climbed to his back, knowing he would need free use of his arms. He swung as an alien swept right under them and attacked another ribbon of highway heading south of Fort Max. Rodimus grasped the edge of the broken road just as the alien came for another round. Rusti slid off his back and hopped in when the Autobot pulled himself up and transformed.

"Those things," Rusti pointed. "They were burrowing under the city, weren't they?"

"I think that's what been disrupting communications between us and New York. This is bad. It means the Quints used their phasing technology to get sneaky."

The girl fell silent as Rodimus drove downroad toward Sector Alpha. Buildings she used to know crumpled like so much refuse. Streets she once walked on lay ripped and burned. The water fountain where two femmes stood back to back, balancing a star between their outstretched arms was now a pile of rubble. It was one of Grapple's last 'small designs before his death several years ago. Rusti choked with tears. That fountain meant something to everyone who remembered the finicky architect. She wiped her cheeks but failed to control her sorrow.

_I know, Lady-friend._ Roddi soothed.

_It's not fair, Roddi. All the fights were elsewhere. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night, hoping you and Optimus would come home soon and okay. But I never thought it would ever happen here._

Rodimus merely Embraced her with his mind, saying nothing.

They reached the command center-or what was left of it. Rusti disembarked and glanced around her. The battle hadn't touch this area yet. Some EDC officers and cadets were scrambling for last-minute things. One officer took a moment to glance in their direction as Roddi tried to manually open the doors.

"They had to jam them in case the Quints tried to break in." He informed. He gazed at Rusti thoughtfully but said nothing to her. "Sir, shall I call your shuttle?"

"What? Communications?"

"No, sir. Limited-range remote control."

"Magnus?"

Up at Com, sir. He ordered a lunar retreat just before all communications went out. But the Quints have obliterated the shuttle bays."

"Damn them!" Rodimus spat. "Lieutenant?"

"Vanderhelm, sir." And the officer saluted.

"Uh, western side-uh, Sector twenty-two, underneath the football field. There's four shuttles there-"

Rusti and Vanderhelm stared at Roddi with wide eyes.

Vanderhelm stammered. "But . . . I thought I knew this city. I mapped it for the forest service and Central City and the National Guard."

Rusti met Roddi's proud-stricken optics. "Let me guess, another one of Optimus' ideas."

"Nope. That one was mine." He grinned broadly. Rusti nodded, approving. "Vanderhelm, I want you to take Rusti and head out there. I'm going to give the Quints a taste of their own gas treatment."

A massive slice of metal landed right before them and Vanderhelm yanked Rusti back as an alien soared overhead and dropped something from its lofty position in the night sky.

The object landed on two stilt-like legs. Its large faceless head veered left then right, scanning for anything that moved. Rodimus attacked it using his arm weapons. He dodged its return-fire and silently signaled Vanderhelm to leave the area. Vanderhelm dashed out from behind the metal slab, trying to drag the girl with him. But Rusti wrested from his grip, refusing to move. He was an idiot, dashing out from cover like that.

She heard nothing.

In slow motion, Vanderhelm silently swung around and shot her a dirty look. But Rusti resisted again when he reached for her. She tried to pull him back-the silence of the moment forced her senses to register everything with slow movement. She tried to drag him into the shadows with her, but he wouldn't budge. Finally, with another dirty look, Vanderhelm dashed off.

The alien's head snapped to that direction.

One beat. Rusti felt her heart pump harder. But no sound came to her ears. Something slammed into the nearby building. She felt the vibrations, but no sound, no real-time movement.

Two beats.

She blinked.

Optimus was arguing with someone.

Three.

A light streaked through the air, illuminating the darkness of shadows and all that remained of Vanderhelm's body was a pile of ash.

She screamed and at first couldn't hear her own voice. But her emotion broke through the silence and she finally could hear the bombs and the jets as they zoomed overhead. Light flared and died around her and one explosion after another thundered around the city.

Another alien suddenly phased in from nowhere and blasted everything in sight. Rodimus kissed the ground and Rusti screamed when part of the building behind them cracked and fell to the side. She dashed as parts of metal and cement rained over the area. The two aliens advanced and Rodimus went for one, hacking the other with his leg.

"Roddi!" Rusti cried, though her voice was drowned by the strafing of laser fire as another alien ship came streaking through the sector. Jetfire followed it, tagging its tail and nearly rammed into the com center. He fired time after time, the two looping circles in the air, dodging buildings and flying over and under the 'floating' freeways in the city. Jetfire targeted several times, slashing buildings and roadways before nailing the alien ship in the thrusters.

A Quintesson phased in thin air and shot at Jetfire, wounding the Autobot. Jetfire fell from the sky and Rusti choked back a cry. As though on cue, Rodimus swung around and blasted the Quint in the optics. It shrieked and smashed against the wall behind it.

The alien with whom Roddi exchanged fire sprung from its position behind a bulkhead, wrapped one arm around Rodimus' neck, yanked him down and jolted him senseless. Rusti found she couldn't even cry. She sank to her knees, unable to breathe.

Darkness bordered her vision and all sounds echoed eerily in her mind.

No breath.

Light flared and startled her enough to pull herself from the moment of shock. She laid her hand on her chest and forced herself to take in air. Kup and Springer fired time after time. It occurred to the girl at that moment, that there had been more than one alien and that they were now surrounded by the battle. Kup rushed to Rodimus' side.

But what happened to the alien? It was there just a moment ago . . .

Something hissed behind her and she turned to find the alien standing behind her-only a little taller than she! She ducked when it aimed a right-cross. She plowed into it, using an old football play. She forced it several yards from her, amazed at her own force.

Another explosion burst, shattering her ears and tossing her through the wall of a nearby EDC office building.

Rusti lay quite still, unsure what had just happened. She wiggled her fingers, blinked her eyes. She remembered to breathe and touched the floor beneath her. She had her exo-suit 'on', but she did not take her helmet with her. That would have been unnecessary for school. How the hell did she survive her crash?

She blinked again and something at the edge of her mind told her she could not stay. She could not lay and sleep. Several more seconds passed before she remembered she was being hunted. She forced herself to her feet and staggered in some direction, not sure where she was going.

Where was she supposed to go, anyway? Before she took cognizant of her actions, she found herself halfway up a staircase. She glanced about, wondering precisely where she was. The girl thought hard. Crashing through the wall must have knocked something out of her. She was disoriented so that she lost her sense of direction. She shook her head and moved forward, hoping to find an exit on the next level.

Rusti found a lobby belonging to the second floor. She glanced around another moment, trying to figure out how the second floor ended up where the first floor should have been. If she went upstairs, would she be on the third floor? She stopped in mid thought and listened. Something echoed her own heartbeats, whacking away at the doors, snapping at the floor like a pair of over-sized toothpicks. She dared a glance around the hallway wall and snapped back just as a laser bolt shot at her.

Rusti thought her heart was going to fail. She laid her hand on her chest, terrified. No! Something else inside her screamed. "Move!" She did just that. She dashed up the stairs to level three and ran down the hall and slipped into a sealable conference room. The whole building seemed so terribly empty compared to what she was used to. Autobot City never slept and no matter what time of day or night she was up, the halls were always occupied with Autobots or Humans.

She manually opened the doors then sealed them behind. Rusti stripped her clothes, knowing she had just minutes before her hunter-seeker found her. Adjusting the controls of the exo-suit, she wished with all her heart she had her helmet. The suit worked even without it, but she could not protect her head very well. The girl took a deep breath to calm her nerves and prepared to meet her attacker.

The faceless alien slammed the door once. Rusti tried to control her racing heart. The door blew in, deflecting harmlessly off her. The alien pointed its crystal-encased weapon.

She pointed a metal-tipped finger, directing energy only with her mind and the creature flew backwards against the opposite wall. Its screamed with surprise and scampered to its feet, rushing with another attack. Rusti dodged it when it came close enough, using another football tactic, tripping it up, swinging around ever so quickly and kicked its rear end. The surprised alien hit the wall, spun around and fired at her. But the lasers bounced off the field like pebbles against a turtle shell.

Rusti approached the thing, kicked its gun out of its hands then took hold of the monster's head and unceremoniously shoved it out the cheap glass window.

"GK!" She cussed in Autobot.

She tromped downstairs, searching one hallway after another until she found an exit. Her head cleared, but her heart would not calm. Once outside, Rusti found the battle had intensified. Rodimus was nowhere to be seen and she feared in such crazy circumstances, she would be forgotten and lost.

A dark ship thundered just overhead and a stream of laser fire sizzled the metal flooring of the city. Rusti hid behind the fallen form of an Autobot. Templix, from the outline of the design, she guessed. Templix was an aerial scout, small like Powerglide, but more aerodynamic.

The sounds of battle subsided just enough to allow the girl to faintly hear Kup's voice. The sound came from the western side, perhaps closer to the cafeteria. "Kup!" She whispered hopefully. She dashed over debris and fallen buildings. She crawled over bodies of people she knew and didn't know, sorry that she could not stop and see if any of them were alive. What a crazy thing! Most of these people she'd seen everyday! She would wave at them or just watch as they would pass by her day after day.

And now they lay here . . . dead. And all she could do was regrettably walk away from them. The girl tried not to let it bother her too much. She forced herself to remain focused on Roddi.

Screaming engines wailed in the air as another Autobot 'bought it'. The poor creature slammed hard into a building not far away and an explosion followed. Rusti scampered a little faster, hoping to gain some distance before anything happened closer to her area. She tried to hear something else from Kup, her hope slowly failing. Where were they? Where did they go? She padded down a flight of stairs leading to another courtyard. All the R&D buildings stood here. Most now ruined by the assault.

A dark shape folded out from nowhere and a four-legged beast swung an oblong head up and down much like a lizard agreeing with itself. It tapped a tapered leg-the same type as those that attacked her school earlier that day.

Rusti froze, terrified the thing-the huge dark spindly-legged thing would fire right at her. It crept one way, turned and tapped toward another way. Again it nodded to itself and clattered, tapping a pair of pincers together.

Then it turned and stared right at her. Rusti swung around and dashed back upstairs for cover, not running fast enough.

A light engulfed her and pain shot right through her body. She fell, kissing the metal steps, her cheek laid on cold metallic flooring.

Was she stunned? She couldn't be dead, because her eyes were still open. But her body lay paralyzed. Did the suit protect her from a full blast? She couldn't really tell what exactly happened.

The whirling sounds of a helicopter whipped in her ears and several shots were fired. Other shots retaliated then an inhuman scream echoed through the air. Someone transformed and landed hard.

"Is, is she . . ."

"No." Came Roddi's voice. "I think she's just stunned."

A finger picked up her hand and Rusti realized Roddi was scanning her for injuries.

Rus?

. . . she really couldn't think of anything coherent to answer.

Come on, Lady-friend. Talk to me.

. . . she slowly blinked. "3÷57.8... HE NEVER SAW THE WHOLE EQUATION." She started crying. Why, she did not know. There was something terribly sad in that . . . whatever the dream meant. Roddi gathered her in his arms as he did so often. She rested her cheek against his chest plate and wished with all her heart Optimus were there too. She weakly laid her hand on Roddi's chest and felt the Autobot's laser core vibrate softly.

AN ALIEN ROBOTIC SPECIES. A UNIQUE ROBOTIC SPECIES. . .

"She's okay." Rodimus confirmed to Springer. "But I think the exo-suit is damaged."

"Are you sure you want to use the self-destruct? There won't be much left of the city when we return, you know."

"Springer, better to destroy what you have rather than allow someone to use it against you. Believe me. I know.

"Yes, sir!"

They walked for several long minutes. Rusti's head cleared again and she sat up, finding herself shaking and still a little light-headed, but better.

_Rusti?_

_Something hit me, Roddi. Am I okay?_

_So far. It's a good thing you had your suit on, though. You woulda been toast._

_Is the suit ruined?_

_Not that I can tell. We'll have someone look at it later._

A few minutes later the trio arrived at the cafeteria. The building seemed so eerie in the darkness. The city, lit only by laser fire and a half-moon, looked much like a ghost town trying to come to life. Emergency lights tried to filter through smoke and the baleful light of plasma fire added to the city's ghostliness. Roddi let Rusti down and Springer acted as guard while the Autobot leader rigged the front doors open. The minute he succeeded, they were met with sounds of charging weapons. Then a close collective sigh sounded loudly from humans and Autobots.

"Commander," Apogee, a female Autobot greeted. "I'm sorry, we thought . . ."

Rodimus brushed it aside. "I want you to alert all Autobots to the football field at once. We're pulling the cord on Fort Max." His order was met with questioned resistance. He turned to Springer. "I need you to set up a defense line on the eastern front of the field. Apogee, you and the others get to the shuttles. No arguing. Just do it."

The small group of humans and Autobots dashed out and transformed, much to Roddi's relief. But Springer remained.

"What about you?" He asked.

"Not now, Springer. I have to shut the city off."

"Hey, much as I hate to act mushy, we can't afford to loose you."

Rodimus shot him a cross look.

BAAAM!

Rusti slammed against the wall as the city jolted violently from bomb impact. Her ears rang with the thunder of the blast. Sirens went crazy as other Autobots scampered under emergency action.

"Go!" Rodimus ordered Springer. "I don't care if every Quintesson brings a grandmother to the party, you get those lines up!"

Springer gave Rusti a glance and pointed at Roddi. "Keep him out of trouble, will ya?" And he dashed down the corridor.

The flooring creaked and moaned as something from outside ripped its way through. Three jet fighter Autobots tried to secure the area with enforced resistance to give would-be refugees time they needed to escape.

The ground broke wide open and a twenty-foot freak with bladed legs sliced its way around. Two Autobots found themselves pinned then crushed as the dark-bodied alien forced itself further against them.

Rodimus swept Rusti up and dashed into the cafeteria. Rusti found herself thrown into the air, shifted and pushed this way and that and when she could finally catch her breath, she sat inside Rodimus' transform mode.

Rodimus raced down three hallways, rammed through the doors of one large conference room and burst through the doors on the other side of the building. Rusti could feel him cussing to himself for taking too long a time to do what he needed. He drove toward the northernmost part of town, into what Rusti assumed was Hanger Six, used mostly for shipping and receiving. Rodimus sent a signal and that part of the ground yawned open and he entered a dark tunnel, using only his scanners to keep them from crashing into any bulkheads.

Rusti moaned, exhaustion finally creeping over her. She rested her head against the seat and sighed.

_It'll be okay._ Roddi soothed.

_I'm so tired, Roddi._ she replied. _I've never been hit before._

A few minutes later they entered a com center. Rodimus parked and Rusti got out. A computer stood at the other end of the room, its huge monitor reflected nothing but static.

"Is it off line?" She asked, her voice piping like a mouse.

"Not really." Rodimus answered deadpan. "As long as Fort Max still lives, it'll stay on line."

Realization hit Rusti like a baseball bat to the back of her head. "Oh, Roddi. You-you're going to . . . terminate the city?"

Rodimus' expression turned to agonizing sorrow. He knelt soundlessly before her and all Rusti could think of was how alive Fort Max really was. It knew everything that took place within its walls. It-he knew when she would sneak into Optimus' office, or when she'd get out of bed to sneak around at night-Fort Max opened doors for her and sometimes she could feel it laughing at her own personal jokes.

And Rodimus was going to commit a mercy-killing.

She started to cry.

"This is war, Rusti." Rodimus answered softly. "Sometimes we have to make decisions we otherwise would never do. If the cities ever fell into Quintesson hands, there's no telling what those tentacled bastards would do. All Autobot cities come on line knowing full well that in war, they are programmed to protect, self-destruct or allow themselves to be terminated if necessary."

But to the girl, it was as if he had to kill a helpless baby bird. The idea was a straw on a camel's back and she just wept. Fort Max had been her home and he wasn't going to be around anymore.

Two aliens emerged from the darkness of the corridor. Their four long legs tapped on the metal floor like rocks or nails on a chalk board. One fired several full-loaded shots at Rodimus and Rusti cried out for her friend. Rodimus fell back and lay still. The dark creature stepped forward and trained its pincers on the Autobot leader.

Rusti frantically searched for a weapon.

Nothing. Her exo-suit was off line. Nothing but the damned sprinkler system and the computer Roddi was supposed to turn off. Rusti was but four feet away from the alarm system. So far she had gone unnoticed by the aliens whose attention remained squarely on Rodimus. The two spoke in some peculiar clicking language. Rusti guessed they spoke to their Quintesson masters.

Slowly, cautiously, the girl inched closer and closer to the computer until she stood directly under an emergency reset switch. Unfortunately, it was a good two feet higher than she. She stretched and missed.

Scraping metal startled her and she ducked. When she recovered enough courage to glance around, she noted one of the four-legged aliens had moved to examine the computer above her.

They still hadn't noticed her, a small bug compared to their sizes. She jumped again and failed. She tried and failed again.

Frustrated, Rusti took a few steps back first then dashed and jumped up, slamming her knotted fists into the button, making a loud slapping sound. A searing pain sizzled her hand and Rusti snapped it back with a cry. She held it close, her stomach tied in knots with agony. A huge dark tentacle swept near her and she ducked.

"Klepta , doat t'tanian?" A rumbling voice filled the air and sent chills down the girl's back.

"P'kroptat. Deis sestavik. Rogk human."

"Human? Klepta human?"

The lights died as the reset stage took place. In dim light, Rusti could make out the shapes of three Quintessons and two four-legged aliens. When did the Quints come in? She heard nothing. They rode in on nothing . . .

One Quint pointed a gun at the computer and the girl wished she could scream. A point-blank laser fired into the consol and electricity spewed, lighting the room like a strobe light. The girl whimpered and covered her face.

A faint buzz sounded, the only thing that acted like an emergency alarm. And from the ceiling and walls, water gushed, quickly flooding the room with coldness.

The whole fortress shuddered and tilted left. Rusti tried to climb the wall, hoping the water was enough a diversion to save Rodimus. She managed to climb high enough to set off another alarm when Quintesson took note of her and plucked her off the consol like an insect from a tree.

"What's this?" he inquired in Autobot. Rusti shuddered. The Quintesson had one eye. A mouth full of dark sharp teeth gleamed from between two well-developed lips. Ridges on either side of its head created semi-circles about its egg-shaped body. The metallic surface of its skin made an eerie reflection of the girl's own face.

"It seems we've been monitored by a metallic mosquito." the Quint answered its own question. "Perhaps we should interrogate it, learn how its make up causes it to crave the companionship of the Autobots."

The creep's companion gave his attention to Rusti's captor. He floated over from Rodimus' side and poked Rusti with his huge tentacle. Rusti thought she was going to smother.

"Hmm. The entertainment value of this thing is not worth the time and effort. We should dispose of it and continue our work."

One of the four-legged aliens spoke in clicks and snaps. It scraped a long leg over the water-drenched floor as though making a point as lucid as possible.

"Agreed." The third Quint finally spoke. "Quardant Tral-aldaunath, we cannot afford to expend any resources. Time is of our most valuable commodity. If we are to open the window according to our calculations, this energy you are using on the human should be put to better coordination with the greater plan."

"I apologize for my lack of self-discipline." Rusti's captor agreed.

Rusti felt her heart slam into her throat. They meant to kill her like a pair of cats with a helpless mouse. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

The monster's tentacle closed in around Rusti and it was all the girl could do to roll herself up to keep from being squashed by the alien. Darkness swallowed her like a coffin as the monster began to squash her like an unwanted insect. Her cries never reached her throat.

* * *

**July, 2038 **

**OUTSIDE THE MILKY WAY GALAXY**

He was a speck of dust on someone's carpet. He heard so much and could see so little. Dirt lay all about him and from time to time he could see huge bugs pass by. They fed on debris and refuse, on food crumbs and dandruff. Large bodies stepped all about him and ignored him entirely. Here, he could hear and smell. And for a while, he was truly happy.

Until he tried to remember who he was and how he came to be. He thought it over for a long time, for as long a time as a speck of dust considers time. But for the life of him, he could not remember who he was. He could not remember how he came to be or why he was there.

Was he important? Did he have any friends? It dawned on him quite sadly that he could not move. He had no control over his body. Sometimes a great wind would rise and force him along paths he did not wish to travel. He found himself in one room one time, a different room another time. He could not control where he went or when and it was very frustrating.

He tried to grow arms but to no avail. He even tried to communicate to a bug. He shouted at it, screamed and called it every foul word he could think of, and a few he made up himself. But the bugs did not hear him.

Other dust balls and specks came and passed him without much thought. He tried to talk to them too, but found nothing else was quite like him. At first he thought this was really wonderful. In a carpet universe, he was the only speck of dust that was aware of itself. He was quite proud of the fact that he knew he was alive and could think and communicate.

But shortly, he realized what a waste it all really was. He was alive, certainly. But he was the only thing alive. The bugs were alive, but they just went about their business, not much more sophisticated than a series of programs. They did not talk, not even to one another. They scrounged and ate, defecated and reproduced and moved on. They did not build cities or contemplate the universe. They weren't curious of the time or the place they inhabited. They weren't concerned with themselves at death. They just moved on.

At first, this irritated him. The bugs were fools! Didn't they realize there was more to life than eating and reproducing and defecating? Didn't they realize . . . didn't they know?

And he realized they weren't the idiots. He was. He was the fool for thinking he was significant at all. In all the carpet, in all the universe, he, the speck of dust was obsolete. He was nothing. He meant nothing. No one knew or cared about him. Sometimes the humans who walked over his universe would step on him and hurt him terribly. Never enough to kill, but their feet sent blows of terrible pain over his tiny body. He begged them not to step on him, but they couldn't hear and time after time they crushed him and he felt so alone, so obsolete.

Then a terrible sound pierced the air and he grew terribly fearful. The sound shot through him like-like-he couldn't say. It hurt, that's all he knew. Oh! Oh! The humans! Oh, the humans were, were vacuuming the carpet! He would be sucked up into a hell he would never ever be free of! Oh! He, he had to communicated with them! He had to beg them not to send him there because there would be no more sound! There would be not one soul like him and he would alone, utterly, utterly alone in a world so much like he, but nothing like him! He tried to scream. He pleaded and begged and shouted as loudly as a speck of dust could. The noise came closer and closer. He panicked and suddenly, it all came terribly clear to him: he was a speck of dust on an ocean of carpet. He tried to communicate to people so far above him, that their minds would not even consider his existence. Not one soul heard his cries. He was crushed underfoot. The sound, the horrible piercing sound stabbed right through him and he remembered nothing more.

Galvatron sat in a rickety wooden boat adrift on a sea of Transformers life-blood. Armless and legless, he sat there hour after endless, timeless hour, just watching the unchanging sky and the shoreless sea. All around him floated the heads of his victims, sometimes banging the sides of the boat. They stared at the sky, wearing the very same faces of horror he'd see just before their deaths.

The sky sucked his energy. No sounds save the slapping waves against the craft or the thumping of the heads and their dark optics as they hit the boat. The red ocean does not change color. The sky does not loose its red hue.

Just he, the sea, the heads and the silence.

Once he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Primus! He can't even hear the sound of his own voice! He tried again and again and again, but nothing whatsoever came out of his vocal unit! And he tried to scream and can't and finally he started to cry. Terrible, terrible silence. No one knew. No one cared.

Time meant nothing.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

It was so quiet, it was loud. It was so loud, it hurt. And hurt, he did. All over. In his mind, turmoil set in motion more emotional pain than any he had felt since . . . yes, the torture of that Nameless Unicron.

Solitude.

How could silence hurt so much? Just the drop of a pin, just flicker of wind, just . . . the sound of one little voice! How long he had lain their, just a pile of refuse, Galvatron could not tell. Moments passed into eternities unaccounted for. His thoughts came and left him, filling nothing in his wretched soul.

Oh, Primus! But he was wretched, too! Galvatron realized he was getting precisely what he deserved. What had he done to deserve anything else? He knew if anyone tried to help him, eventually he would stab them in the back.

Oh, still, just for a small sound! Just for a voice, even the voice of a tormentor would be welcomed!

He was cold and hot. Pain played him like an instrument, aching in one area then another. Why wasn't he dead yet?

Silence.

Nanoseconds stretched off into a time undetermined. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been several hours. Galvatron just lay there, hugging the cold ungiving ground beneath him. His body lay in scraped pieces and if it was torn so badly apart, how could he possibly hurt so much?

The little world about him was as empty as his soul.

Oh but for the sound of one other life form! He tried to moved his arms and every attempt was met with agony. He moved, cringed in pain then lay still. Another move and pain forced him to lay still again. What torment! He would shift his aching arm, only to be whipped by agony in his back. He could utter no sound. No sound would come, anyway. Not in the vacuum of space. And who would hear him?

Gradually, ever more slowly than the rotation of a beleaguered planetoid, Galvatron managed to pull most of himself into a sitting position. But there he stayed. The anguish made him shake. His face plates ached. His arm(s?) throbbed and the pain traveled mercilessly down his innards. . . if he had any left. He tried to do a self-diagnosis, but that part of his senses had long since burned out. He could assess only by what he saw and felt. Half his right leg lay elsewhere. Perhaps light years away.

No.

There it lay, only a few yards from him.

His left hand unit was missing. Perhaps it too lay elsewhere nearby.

He shuddered with the cold. His regulatory program must have gone haywire.

Haywire. That's a stupid Earth term! How annoying. Even out here, all the way out in the middle of nowhere, Galvatron still had Earth on his mind! Those stupid little flesh creatures were more influential than what other extraterrestrial life forms gave them credit for.

A cramp intercepted Galvatron's thoughts and he bowed over, shaking and . . . crying.

Crying!

Yes! Fluid fell from his optics. Although it swiftly froze in the sub-degree temperatures of space, wet shiny drops fell. Crying! Like some pathetic self-pitying flesh creature . . . Embarrassed, even in solitude, he ordered himself to stop. He tried to hold himself up and failed.

Failed.

He had failed in life and there was no one to blame. There was nothing left to him. He was obsolete.

Another cramp developed and Galvatron was forced to lay down again. The agony left him weak and he longed to sleep. No rest. And death cheated him the release he longed for.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Gawd! Just a word, a sound!

Why was he still alive?

Pain crept up his back and in silence, he wept. And the silence grew louder still.

No one was there to say anything one way or another. No one was there to make him pull himself together. No one was there to listen to him boast, to force the anger out of him, to make him puff up with pride and dare him to stand.

He was useless. And no one cared.

Eventually, Galvatron again drifted into the gentle embrace of sleep.

I INTERVENED. I GAVE YOU LIFE. I TOOK YOU FROM DEATH. BUT YOU ARE ARROGANT, GALVATRON. I HAVE NO USE FOR ARROGANCE. NOT FOR WHAT I WANT.

He woke. Too weak to move, the 'great' Decepticon simply laid there, helpless as an infant flesh creature.

I GAVE YOU LIFE." the voice sternly repeated. I CAN TAKE IT AWAY AGAIN. BUT I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT WANT ONE LAST CHANCE. I'VE SEEN YOUR POWER CORE. I KNOW WHAT'S DEEP INSIDE YOU, WHETHER OR NOT YOU CHOOSE TO ADMIT IT.

Primus. He couldn't say it. But the name came loudly enough to his mind.

No. it wasn't Primus. But no one else stood nearby. Even with all his senses down, Galvatron knew he was all that lay on this floating space rock. He didn't even know how he got there. Still . . . Oh, and hearing the voice was sweet. Galvatron realized that finally he was not alone.

This was . . . kindness.

Someone thought of him. Someone remembered him.

"I'VE CHOSEN YOU, GALVATRON. BUT THE DECISION IS YOURS. I CAN ALLOW YOU TO PROCEED TO DEATH. I ASSURE YOU THAT YOUR TORMENT WILL BE ONLY THE BEGINNING. THERE ARE THINGS FAR WORSE THAN THE PAIN YOU'RE FEELING NOW. BUT HERE, GALVATRON, I AM OFFERING YOU ANOTHER CHANCE AT LIFE. IT'S UP TO YOU.

The voice stopped. Galvatron felt the presence flee from him, as though it realized it was wasting its time. Wasn't it here before? Was that the same voice as earlier?

The pain and cold attacked again, wrapping icy fingers about the still form of the former Decepticon leader. Galvatron thought for a very long time.

Another chance at life?

Why?

Another chance at life?

Was it . . .

Was it possible that . . .

He . . . would be given a chance to change?

But no. What kind of a fool would he be? No one would accept or believe him! Galvatron could not believe it possible of himself.

Wait. What did the Voice say? It knew what was deep inside him . . .? What was deep inside? What . . . Was . . . was he actually capable of goodness? Was he actually capable of something other than destruction? His body trembled with his thoughts. Was, was all that possible?

He recalled once helping Optimus Prime retrieve something on Charr. Primus that was ages and ages ago! He remembered working with Optimus Prime against the Insecticons and . . . and he dared once to admit to himself he enjoyed working with Prime. Galvatron actually had to smile inside-yes, a real smile. He found how eccentric Optimus could be.

Other situations came to mind-the time he had the Constructicons dig their way to the Earth's core and he had to work with the Autobots to save the Earth and themselves from HIS idiocy. Optimus was never anything less than fair.

Never anything less than fair.

That's power, Galvatron thought suddenly. And that thought sparked another: it took more to treat a jerk fairly than to strike out in anger and kill. It took more strength to assist someone who didn't deserve help. It took greater mental strength to work with someone who'd sooner kill you as look at you.

It took unimaginable integrity to treat your enemies with patience and impartiality than to treat them with hate and persecute them.

Optimus had certainly done his share of killing on the battlefield. But never ever would he do it out of cold blood.

That, the Decepticon told himself, was strength. That was power-that was true power.

And it was something he now wished he had. It was a quality he lacked. His form of leadership came through threats and harassment. Optimus earned his position. Galvatron took it.

What power!

Primus, if only he could . . . if only he knew how.

If only he had.

He deserved what he was getting. He understood why. And he respected the punishment he was receiving. Galvatron inwardly sighed as another onslaught of pain assailed his body. He deserved it. He dedicated every stroke of pain, every moment of lonely silence to those whose lives he had wrongfully taken.

The pain that racked his body lessened for a brief moment when Galvatron, former leader of the Decepticons, felt something he had never felt before in all his miserable existence: responsibility.

He deserved nothing. He was nothing. If this was to be his place for the remainder of time, he would take it without complaint. He earned it. His pain and solitude was the price he paid for the sorrow he dealt in his lifetime.

And . . . before he could finish another thought, he fell to a gentle sleep, a sleep given him by divine kindness.


	3. Season In Hell

**Author's Note**: Every time a FLASH appears, it signifies a sudden shift in reality.

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 3  
**Season In Hell**

**EARLY AUGUST, 2038**

**DESTINATION: UNKNOWN.**

Music touched his audios. Sweet soft music. Galvatron knew it by heart and he quickly found himself humming to it.

The music came from a piano. A dark-skinned human played it ever so sweetly in an old empty theater.

Megatron had searched high and low for the traitorous Starscream and his wretched new Combaticons.(1) No success. Not in several days. And in the search, their trail led to an older part of Central City where the railroad moved up toward Portland. That was where he heard the music.

THE AUTOBOTS ARE AS MUCH YOUR PEOPLE AS THE DECEPTICONS.

"That's idiocy!" Galvatron's subconscious shouted back. "We're not Autobots! Not made of the squishy-soft substance they are! We are warriors! We are invincible! Keep your plans to yourself!"

AND I THOUGHT WE WERE MAKING PROGRESS! THE AUTOBOTS ARE AS MUCH A PART OF YOUR RACE AS THEY ARE OF THEMSELVES. WHERE DO DECEPTICONS COME FROM, GALVATRON?"

Inside the Decepticon glowered at nothing. "All a part of your precious plan, no doubt! Pfft! You're no better or different than Unicron."

AS IF I HAD PLANNED YOUR DILEMMA! AS IF EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU WAS PART OF SOME GREAT DIVINE PATH! LET ME TELL YOU, OH GREAT MEGATRON, LEADER OF THE DECEPTICONS, THAT NOTHING I HAVE PLANNED HAS GONE RIGHT! I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT NOTHING HAS BEEN RIGHT SINCE PRIMUS ALLOWED THE QUINTESSONS ACCESS TO VECTOR SIGMA! THE ONLY THING THAT HAS GONE RIGHT IS THAT A LITTLE GIRL PREVENTED TWO CRAZED AUTOBOT LEADERS FROM KILLING EACH OTHER!

**1985, Earth:**

The music wafted back. Primus, what was it about that piece that enraptured him so? That piece, as much a part of his soul as his own name. Megatron followed the sound like a bee to a flower and managed to sneak into the theater undetected. And the human female kept playing just as though she didn't hear a thing.

Then she stopped.

"No." Megatron whined. "Please, continue."

She wasn't startled. "I can't. I haven't finished the rest."

"I know this piece." Megatron advanced, but kept a respectful distance. "I have heard it millions of years ago."

She smiled, almost laughing, he thought. "Then the music means something to you. It doesn't really exist."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I made it up. I made the theme up. You won't find anyone else who has made this piece."

"I've heard it before. I'm almost certain."

"Then, I will finish it and when I do, I can send you a copy."

YOU WELCOME NON-EXISTENCE BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT COMES AFTER YOUR LIFE. SO YOU, IN YOUR ARROGANCE, CHOOSE TO BELIEVE IN NON-EXISTENCE. BUT I WILL TELL YOU THAT THERE IS NO SUCH THING. NOT FOR SUPER CREATURES. NOT FOR SENTIENT. TIME MEANS NOTHING TO THE SOUL, BUT THE BODY IS MARKED AND DATED. YOU ARE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.

**2017, Cybertron**

Entire planets blew to pieces, lives, millions and millions of them marred his soul. Every time he turned to recharge, he heard their screams.

He murdered his own people. His joints ached continually.

He reprogrammed Autobots. His blood was infected with a rare untreatable rust disease and he had to filter the impurities in his body once a week or the disease would cause him to go deaf and blind.

He murdered Optimus Prime and later Rodimus Prime. He was reminded of the deaths of Sentinel Prime and Imprintess and his face was twisted and deformed from a Quintesson Phase bomb.

The rust disease forced some of his joints to fuse so that he had to bend over like an old human female suffering from osteoporosis. It didn't matter what the technicians and doctors did, the problems simply came back right after treatment. No tests, or inventions or miracle cures helped. He had become a hideous disfigured mechanism. His own people dreaded to look upon him.

THE BODY IS MARKED AND DATED. YOU ARE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.

**2029, Cybertron**

Once he and the Sweeps went out on a blood hunt for three turn-coat Decepticons. He discovered how Soundwave, Doublepunch and Pretender Carnivac were running a railroad for fleeing Autobot slaves. At his command, Soundwave and Doublepunch were instantly beheaded without so much as a trial. Carnivac escaped and for days and nights they hunted him throughout all Cybertron. One afternoon, Galvatron stood alone in his tent, mapping out the next coordinates for their search when the tent became terribly cold and silent. Above him hung three Quintessons the likes of which he had never seen, but recognized nonetheless.

"THE DEADNESS OF HIS MIND IS PERFECT FOR THE EXPERIMENT." Face of Death announced.

"EXCELLENT." The strange one agreed. "PROCEED."

And the first one entered him, crowding his mind, thrashing his soul, slashing at him and driving him into a kind of darkness he had never seen. The darkness was horrible. It choked him and made him mentally gag. He couldn't breathe and collapsed, thrashing and screaming, though nothing came from his vocal unit.

Then, oh gawd, then it began to feed off him! Not the body, but his soul! Gawd! He could feel pain as vibro blades sunk into him and the foul thing drank blood he didn't know he had! Despair overwhelmed him and he rolled over face down and wept and begged it to stop but all it did was worm its way further into him and drain him of strength and desire. It fed upon his lust and raped him of his self-confidence.

Where, where did they get this kind of power? The Quintessons were never of any real concern! They were weakling cowards! They feared the humans! They were merely scavengers who took advantage of the weak and the stupid! But this, this kind of power was unfathomable and it added to Galvatron's misery. The indwelment devoured memories and stole emotions and rationalities from him. All that which Galvatron built in his soul over the centuries to replace what Unicron's death had taken was gone. All of it was gone and now, once again, he was a naked empty shell. He was devoid of power and self-confidence.

All gone.

THE BODY IS MARKED AND DATED. YOU ARE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.

**3059, Cybertron**

And after Cyclonus died, nothing was ever the same. Galvatron retreated into a dismal pyre of self-pity. Madness burned his mind and he could not rest, nor was he ever, ever happy. Nothing made him happy. And there was no reason to continue.

So he tried to find death and to his horror, one suicide attempt after another failed.

FAILED!

His physician once joked that whatever plagued Galvatron was determined to keep him living too. Galvatron had him beheaded for it.

Two nights later, Galvatron woke in the middle of the night to find the robot physician's head hanging in the air staring at him.

But it really wasn't there, according to Galvatron's personal guards. Nothing was there. But night after night after torturous night Galvatron would wake to see that head just hanging in the air, staring at him with dead optics.

It never left him.

**1985, Earth**

She smiled, almost laughing, he thought. "Then the Music means something to you. It doesn't really exist."

It brought him visions of color and power. Where waste and desolation lay, the Music brought beauty and life. Where despair reigned in the heart of a war-weary people, the Music promised vitality and comfort. The Music was the soul of the Decepticon Empire.

Then one day, if faded. Hidden by a darkness and Megatron mourned, longing to hear it again. And for once, just once, he heard it again on Earth. It was the one time of few he did not crave a violent confrontation with the Autobots. True, he had other problems at hand: mainly a certain air commander who just couldn't channel his power lust elsewhere.

And Galvatron remembered he heard it again just after Optimus had cured the Hate Plaque.

Where was the Music? How was he hearing it now? Where did it come from? He longed to find the source, to always keep it with him. It called to him. It spoke his name-both his names in a language he could not fathom.

**TIME: SEPTEMBER, 2038**

**DESTINATION: PLANET TARSUS, PAKALINE SYSTEM**

Galvatron stirred. The visions left him cold and he held himself, sitting in one position for the longest time. What horror! Imagine, being fed upon by a Quintesson! Or living with waking nightmares everyday of your life! Imagine, he, reduced to a level so desperate as to keep a corpse for company!

He moaned sadly, burring his face plates in his hands. It was no dream. It was a warning.

The Music came back to him and he rocked where he sat, remembering the tune, ingraining it into his subconscious so that he would never, never forget it.

Suddenly he gasped. Yes! He was sitting up! He realized the pain was gone, completely! A cheerful blue sky met his optics. A soft warm wind touched his exostructure and a sun, a sweet bright sun warmed him, welcoming him to a beautiful planet. The song of birds hit his audios and Galvatron drew in air, smelling the trees and the plants and nearby water. Everything was real!

He stood and found his body intact-minus a cannon. Not even the connectors for the powerful weapon were present in his systems.

He glanced about his surroundings, no longer finding himself on the god-forsaken asteroid. He stood on the soft blue-green grasses of Tarsus in the Pakaline system. While he was still light years away from Cybertron or Earth, he was in a place where he could feasiblely attain a shuttle and return. Excitement, no, joy touched the former Decepticon leader. He should have died and did not.

Another chance at life?

Why?

He thought about it for a long moment. The vision mentioned something about Optimus Prime. So odd, the Decepticon thought to himself. His whole life has been centered around his arch enemy.

Galvatron threw that thought away. He could no longer afford to consider Prime his enemy. He would have to start thinking in other terms.

With that in mind, the Decepticon set out in search of the nearest town.

**SEPTEMBER, 2038**

**SPACE STATION URITHMO, VIRGO SYSTEM**

Galvatron had never worn clothes outside his ceremonial cloak and even then, he had never used it outside Cybertron. Now he found concealing clothes have become his only means of safety in a galaxy full of headhunters. From under the cover of a cowl, he peered carefully through a night club full of aliens. Conversations ranging from personal family problems to rumors over wars and treachery touched the Deception's sensors. A musty scent filled the room and Galvatron reminded himself to seek information elsewhere next time.

In a darker corner sat two ant-like insectoids munching on live worms and chattering away in their own click language. Galvatron inadvertently made his way toward them, trying to be as inconspicuous as a Deception could be. He adjusted the belt round his waist, feeling a bit absurd. He was still unaccustomed to wearing cloth.

One insectoid finally gave him some consideration. It clicked and chattered then clamped a pincer over its mouth and laughed. It plucked up a collar and slipped it round its neck. "Forgive me, Deception. I forgot you Transformers do not speak our language." The collar gave no voice inflections, sounding more like a bad imitation of a robotic voice.

Galvatron winced at the names. He hoped no one else heard the fool speak. "I've come to buy information. He promptly stated.

"To the point!" the first alien sounded. "I like that in any species. What would you like to know?"

Galvatron measured his time. Sometimes informants charged by the minute, others by the information. "I need news of Decepticon activities."

The Insectoids glanced at one another. The second scooped up another spoonful of worms and crunched noisily. The first took a sip of liquid. His antenna concentrated wholly on Galvatron, sending a slight chill down Galvatron's infra spine structure. Even he found it hard to keep his composure before these two.

"Activities? There's a list about a parsec long. Ahh, Scorponok's been eyeing a target on Charr. He has intentions of re-energizing the life core of that planet so as to create a new generation of warriors."

Galvatron stared in silent disbelief. So, the Decepticons made it back to this part of space, too! But how long ago? And how? "How much?" He asked coldly.

The Insectoid waved a pincer away. "Don't worry about it, Galvatron. It's hardly worth the expense. Everyone knows that."

But Galvatron was no charity case and he refused to be treated as such. His face plates tightened. "Then tell me something that **is** worth my expense." He growled.

Now he had the other Insectoid's attention. The first one blinked its huge mantis-like eyes and a sense of respect seemed to cover its face.

"Very well. The Quintessons have attacked Earth in an attempt to regain their marketing superiority among the more powerful races. Their plan is to use Earth as a new home base--"

"What of the Autobots?" his innards had frozen with the bad news. But he dared not show it. Not to these two.

"They don't have half a chance. The other Insectoid responded carelessly. "Really, they can't even contact their interplanetary basses let alone Cybertron. Seems the Quintessons are determined to destroy all Transformers, starting with the Autobots."

Galvatron's optics narrowed in thought. "Is that all?" he asked sharply.

The first Insectoid considered him coldly and dumped a spoonful of worms in its mouth. "You mean outside the fact that Scorponok will soon be challenged for leadership of the Deceptions?"

Galvatron set his fists on his hip plates and gave a dangerous look. "**Who**?" he sneered.

The Insectoid shrugged. "Some freakazoid named Psyklenox"

Galvatron stared. No words. No expression. He just stared. The insectoids crunched away at their meal, acting as if the information was just another event in a weary age-old war. But Galvatron knew they knew that the turn of events was anything but ordinary. Someone punched a wrong button, as it were.

He produced a small crystallized chip and set it in front of the insectoids. "The pass word is 'fatal." He told them. The first Insectoid plucked it right up with his pincer and examined the key to Galvatron's personal bank account. It rolled one large eye toward him, seeming impressed. "On Tiax, too. Thank you, Galvatron. Doing business with Transformers is always a pleasure."

Galvatron said nothing and walked away.

**NOVEMBER, 2038**

**PLANET ZALADIAN**

Galvatron had traveled through three stargates before finally arriving at Zaladian. The wet murky planet reminded him of a city in England on Earth-always wet, cold and foggy. Or was that San Francisco? Was it Portland, Oregon? He shook his head. His attention was wandering again.

The streets on Zaladian's largest city stood mostly deserted this time of night. The tall street lights glowed an eerie yellow light, penetrating the fog with not much success.

He was being followed. In fact, for the last three planets, he had been followed. He thought he'd loose the 'shadow' back in the jungles of Kleckark. But either he had become very sloppy, or his hunter was very good.

Much to Galvatron's dismay, it was pretty obvious Scorponok knew he still lived.

The former Decepticon leader rounded the corner of a stone building and leaned against the wall. He had not refueled in a week and tried to conserve as many resources as possible. It was a long way to Earth and the journey had been very dangerous. He shut off his optics, tuning his audio receptors to everything around him. All seemed deathly still. The chill of the night clung to those areas not protected by his long cloak.

He felt miserable. He had no one to speak to in weeks--or was it months, now? How he had taken so much for granted! Why? Why didn't he realize all this before? Why didn't he understand so much before? Lately Galvatron had taken note how he had been able to see and hear everything so much more clearly. Every little detail failed to escape his notice. In the jungles of Kleckark, he often found himself pausing to stare at the beauty of the planet. He found himself enjoying the scenery. He liked to watch the sun find its way past foliage, falling on the ground in soft beams of light. He would stop and watch the wildlife, how the parents would care for their young. He listened to the music of the birds . . . everything came in so clear, so brightly. Even here on this miserable wet planet, Galvatron saw beauty. He activated his optics. The fog rolled along the ground, as though pushed by an invisible hand. The light touched it, softly adding a blue shade. The buildings stood on either side of the cobbled street, creating a wall, enclosing the fog, guiding it to wherever the street ended. The cold air came sweet, moist and pure. Galvatron thought he could reach out and touch everything.

And how he was able to see and hear and feel so much was beyond him. Except . . . except he was no longer angry. Something had happened to him on that asteroid. Something special. Something that was nothing short of a miracle. He needed to share it with someone. He needed to talk about it.

A rock crunched under someone's metallic foot and Galvatron reached for his gun. He held the weapon tightly. He would BLOW the idiot away!

No.

He needed to know who was following him, first. Galvatron became annoyed at himself. That sounded like something Prime would do!

Silence.

Galvatron set the gun for minor injury. Forget stun. Decepticons were pretty much immune to it, anyway. Ha, ha! That always threw Prime off!

Another crunch. Galvatron swiftly swung around and fired blindly. A small explosion sounded and someone groaned, falling. Triumphantly, Galvatron dashed over, wrestling until the 'shadow' surrendered. The Decepticon dragged its wounded carcass into the light and hauled it up to meet--

"Cyclonus!"

Galvatron's power core froze.

Cyclonus looked guilty as charged. He scowled and rubbed an injured hip strut beneath a black cloak. He bowed his head in submission until Galvatron released him and stepped away.

The former Decepticon leader stared suspiciously at his former second-in-command and set his hands on his hips. "You've been following me."

"Yes, Mighty One."

"Well!" Galvatron snapped, "You can go back to your new master Scorponok and tell him if he wants--"

"I'm not from Scorponok, Galvatron." Cyclonus leaned on his good leg and stared at his former companion like a lost puppy. "I was not there. You sent me out on reconnaissance. Remember? I did not know what was occurring until I returned."

Galvatron opened his mouth but nothing came out. He shut it, trying to decide where to go, what to say from here. He frowned and glance away. His optics caught movement by Cyclonus' feet and with a second glance noted the fluid his friend was losing. He stared into Cyclonus' optics. "Why are you following me?"

"Where you go, I go." he answered simply.

Galvatron looked indignant, even cross. "Did I ask you to follow me around like some sort of slave?"

"No, Mighty One."

Galvatron lost his anger, if there really was any to begin with. He shook his head. "Go back to the Decepticons, Cyclonus. I am no longer among them."

Pain entered Cyclonus' optics and Galvatron could not tell whether it was from his rejection, or the wound. "Galvatron . . . you are a part of me. Where you go, I will-I must follow."

Galvatron glared and turned his back on his former friend. He walked some yards away. "I'm going to Prime, Cyclonus." he said without looking. "I'm a traitor. Go back."

Thump.

Galvatron glanced over his shoulder. Cyclonus had fallen to his knees, a puddle of dark fluid began to spread over the street. But what touched the Decepticon was how Cyclonus had covered his face. Everyone claimed Cyclonus had no personality, no emotion. But they were all dead wrong. Cyclonus was the most emotional person Galvatron knew. He knew Cyclonus wept on Torchulon when the Avalia tried to remove Galvatron's sanity by removing his mind.

He paused. Taking Cyclonus would mean certain death for his friend who could still find a place in the Decepticon ranks.

Still, he could use a friend.

The Decepticon approached his friend and knelt before Cyclonus, meeting him optic to optic. "I am returning to Earth, Cyclonus." he said softly, "I am going to Optimus Prime. I don't want you to take part of my guilt. I am dead as far as the Decepticons are concerned. I must remain that way."

"Galvatron," Cyclonus' voice strained and he trembled. "Don't leave me here."

Galvatron studied his companion's face, noting with puzzlement what he thought to be tears. He touched Cyclonus' face, smearing the liquid, spreading it over his fingers with his thumb. No. He has heard Cyclonus cry. He just had never seen him cry.

And it was said Decepticons never cried.

Galvatron took Cyclonus' position into account. If he went back to the Decepticons, Scourge would somehow find a way to frame him. Galvatron never liked Scourge or his filthy pet-playmates. He always suspected a power play ensued between Scourge and Cyclonus. Cyclonus never seemed to be afraid of Scourge, even when Galvatron taunted him with the idea of being replaced by the jerk.

Little by little Galvatron weighed a great deal other things in his mind. He abused Cyclonus. He tortured his second-in-command. And here Cyclonus was, still wiling to follow without compromise or expectations. No strings attached.

Galvatron laid his hands on his friends arms. Cyclonus was cold to the touch-a sign of weakening. The Decepticon took to his feet and helped Cyclonus to his. "Come." he said softly. "Let's get you out of the cold."

**END OCTOBER 2038**

**FORTRESS ZENITH, MARS**

The star bombs left the city shaking, their brilliant light bounced off the shields, but with each bomb, the shield's energy faded further and further. Optimus could feel the city panicking. He turned to Redial, optics quite stern. "Redial, send a message to Strike Back. Tell him I want all available personnel to the shuttles at once. No one will get out of here alive if we stay and fight the Quintessons." "Sir?" Redial meekly returned, "All comlines are off line. I'm afraid-"

"Then go to him and tell him in person, Redial! I don't have time for other suggestions!"

"Sir! Yes sir!" The communications officer scurried away. Optimus could hear him break for the elevator. The Autobot leader shook his head. The shields should hold for another several moments. Suddenly a bomb slammed into the building, pushing the entire structure to the left, sending Prime and his whole office against the south wall.

**They were people without faces. Where they came from, telepathy was their expression.**

The emergency light shot on and the Autobot leader came out of a momentary lapse. The building wasn't tilted enough to throw everything his way, but the desk looked like it was ready to pounce him. His office seemed alien to him at the moment almost as though . . . no, it wasn't his office. It wasn't his desk. Something else was there. Something else was lurking in the building.

His laser core stopped vibrating for a long moment. Outside he could hear ships zooming left and right, firing at everything in their sight. Down the streets he could hear infantry marching-marching without feet, he thought.

Primus, no! No!

Prime forced a path to the doorway, cautiously keeping close to the wall.

"Commander?" Quasar's slight voice piped from his right. She had to walk up toward him, also hugging the wall. "Sir, I tried to get a hold of you over intercom, but it seems-"

"Yes." Optimus impatiently replied. "What is, Quasar?"

"Sir, I think the shuttles are ready."

"Think?"

"Yes sir, uh, the **Speedster's** trying to give us some trouble. It's complaining of bad couplers and a negative gyro. I told it the components would have to wait-

Prime cut her off suddenly. He became keenly aware they were not alone. He listened intently, faintly hearing the sounds of battle outside the building. But it was more than the battle at hand. Something was watching them. The Autobot leader glanced all around them, searching through the dim emergency lights, trying to make sense of the shadows cast by their eerie glow.

"Sir?" Quasar whispered. She waited, watching his odd behavior. "Optimus?" She dared, though had anyone else been there, she would never have called him by his first name.

Prime's instincts, unfortunately, proved true. Something folded out from the seams of the wall in front of them. Horrified, Quasar stepped back, chocking a cry. It unfolded its body like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle and stood just a little taller than Prime. Its body resembled more a stick figure with terribly long legs and no feet. Its arms were equally as long, ending in two long fingers and an opposing thumb, all tapering into lethal claws. It had a chest that resembled many Transformer's chest pieces, shoulders that swung upward in sharp points and a head, divided by a fold like a mask, a pair of horns swept up from either side and the creature had no face.

Optimus pulled Quasar back, protecting her with his body. He watched the thing stare at him for a long precarious moment. And he wondered if he could moved fast enough to target its vulnerable neck before it decided to strike.

Nope.

It slashed out and Prime ducked, dragging Quasar to the floor with him. He jumped like a cat, again dragging her weight like a doll and swung around, remembering never to turn his back on an assassin.

It came right for him and he punched it, sending it straight into the bulkhead. It disappeared into the wall and the next moment slipped out the borders of the floor and walls. With a shriek, it came for him and again Optimus gave him a power punch, sending it sailing through the air.

The creature rebounded, bouncing from wall to wall to ceiling, attacking with all its might. Optimus ducked but wasn't fast enough for the next round and he was rammed into the ground. He rolled with the impact and back-rolled with his enemy. Prime struggled to recover enough from the attack to get an upper hand, but the creature moved with unrealistic speed and slashed the left side of his face. It aimed another slash but Prime caught that attempt and twisted its scrawny arm and gave it a body slam. He back rolled to his feet and drew his weapon from subspace, all his senses intently aware of the thing before them.

But it did not attack yet.

In silence it pointed to Prime. Images flashed though his mind at lightning speed. Battle after battle reminded him of the blood baths he survived. Time after time after time after . . . And no one knew when it was going to end. Drem, Tortim, Cratis, Prakdom du'thrzh Three, Simindar, Uvis, Sanjer . . . Mechlatex.

A treaty signed by the elders forced him to comply with their wishes. Four hundred Autobots died in two days and he did nothing.

Nothing.

They invaded Cybertron and more Autobots died or were reprogrammed as Decepticons. More lives, more damage to a dying planet.

And he did nothing.

Should he not answer for those crimes?

Prime gently pushed Quasar aside. "Yes." He answered in a whisper, though something else inside screamed at him that he wasn't to blame, that at the time the treaty was signed, the Decepticons were fighting . . . he was . . . he was . . .

"Kehm on, Priahm!" Ironhide's voice broke through "This ain't yer fault! Dammit, when 'r ya gonna-"

"What?" He challenged. "Forget it? Forget them? I can't Ironhide. I should have done something."

Ironhide gripped Prime's injured arm squeezing it until the young leader flinched in pain. "There. Ain't that uh reason? Ain't that uh cause?"

"It's no excuse! You don't know how much power I have!"

"D' ya know how to use it?"

He drew breath to answer but faltered suddenly. He melted. "No."

It now stood right in front of him. It had used a mind melding technique to distract him! It drew a hand back, ready for a deadly strike but Quasar drew her weapon and fired several times before it fell. She tried to push Prime down, succeeding only in stepping in front of him and fired again before he yanked her out of the way. The creature snapped to and charged for her.

Prime intervened, kicking the thing right in the thorax, throwing it off its guard. It scampered right back, aiming to leap, but surprising Prime by suddenly shifting and knocking him off his feet. Optimus heard Quasar call for him in fear when the alien leapt on his back and gouged deep wounds in his exostructure. The Autobot leader suppressed his pain and rolled, aiming for the thing.

It jumped to the walls, posing for another strike and sprung when again Optimus smashed it into the bulkhead. It disappeared into the metal.

Prime dashed down the hall, dragging Quasar with him. The building tilted unexpectantly and they struggled to keep their balance. They slammed left when another bomb from outside hit, forcing them to grip handrails and fissures.

Prime turned to her. "Quasar, I want you to go on ahead. I'll cover your escape."

Her optics shot wide. "No! Commander! You have to come with me! That thing is after you! I can't just leave you like that! You could-"

"Quasar!" He snapped. "I can handle this myself. Get to the shuttles! That's an order!"

She hesitated, searching his damaged face for some sign of untruth. But she could not find it. He meant what he said. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Aye, sir." She walked away at first, then dashed off, transforming into a sleek silver fox.

It was one less thing for him to worry about. Optimus touched the left side of his faceplate, finding two well-placed gashes leaking non-vital fluids.

The creature pounced him from above and ripped his back down the right side. It scampered away as fast as it attacked, hanging precariously from the ceiling by its wickedly long claws. Prime forced himself up and slammed his back against the wall, forcibly suppressing the pain.

"Sssskkit t'tand dit ch't kicht'ttanitkeekek."

Optimus silently shook his head and tried to ignore his system's internal warnings.

And the thing laughed. "You've gotten a little slow since our last encounter." It spoke in Autobot. It dropped from the ceiling and kept the distance between them. It didn't seemed worried that Prime would either attack or escape.

Silence came disturbing as death. Optimus could hear the battle outside rage. Laser fire shot back and forth, Fineliner transformed and chased something down, aiming a blast and missing altogether.

"You're not a match for me, Prime." The alien's voice pierced the air. "I will take your life and add it to my own."

Optimus did not answer, trying to outguess its next move. It lunged for him and he tried to slam it right back against the wall. But it dodged, slipped around and slashed his left shoulder. The pain threw him against the wall and he remained still for a moment. "I see." The thing quietly measured. It crept toward him, inching like a panther for its prey. "The virus has taken a toll on you. The virus has done a nice job."

Prime struggled to control his breathing and shaking. He channeled his anger into energy, struggling to keep his head clear of irrational thoughts. "Why have you returned? Why have you bothered?" He demanded.

"THEY gave us an offer we could not refuse."

Prime shook his head. "But . . . I thought you would not take sentient life forms. I thought-" he was cut off. Images flashed and burned his mind like acid-death of billions by war. HIS war. He tried to shake his mind of it by telling himself over and over again it was a trick. It was a trick and he should pay no attention to it. It hurt and the moment he forced himself to look up, he found the creature posing to strike right for his laser core. Optimus swung, but the pain prevented him from moving fast enough and the creature hissed and ripped his chest plate, thankfully enough, having no affect on the ceramic plating. But the rims bled.

The alien cursed in another language and back flipped to another wall and came right back for him. Optimus ducked and swung back around as the thing ricochet like a bullet. Prime's arm swept in a powerful stroke and moved fast enough so that the thing again kissed the wall. It rebounded and used the momentum to grasp the ceiling and came right back for Optimus. Prime leapt out of the way with an impossible handspring.

But he was wearing down and Optimus found himself trembling. He backed into another wall and stood there for a moment, commanding his body to adhere to his demands of alertness and control.

It watched crouched like a predator, studying his every move. Its head tilted now and again, observing his breathing. Its long claws softly scraped the metallic flooring "In order to do what we need, we must eliminate the chain of command." Its voice came soft in his audios. "Eliminate the chain of command and the Autobots will fall like a group of lost children. Then, with the destruction of the Matrix, we can eliminate the spirit of the people and a little at a time, feed off their souls until there is no sentience whatsoever. That, Optimus Prime, is the plan."

The Autobot leader shook his head. "You can't take what you did not give in the first place."

"How do you know we're not the ones who endowed your kind with n'shmah?"

"I know."

"Ah! The Matrix told you! Yet, you and I both know the Matrix has flawed memories. Oh yes, I am aware of a great deal many things. Most my people are. I am aware that you will kill me today. But I'm unconcerned. We have everything planned out right to the moment."

"To the moment, you say?" Optimus spired. "What of the time flashes? What about the windows? Have you accounted for those?" Pain and pressure pushed their way through his brain casing and the Autobot leader gasped and struggled not to fall to his knees. He Reached for some shred of strength and grasped it just as the alien lurched for him.

Prime gave it a powerful back-handed slap, only strong enough to knock it down, but not back. It kicked him off his feet and pounced on top, securing his powerful arms to the floor by embedding its claws about his hands to the floor. It firmly gripped his sides with its legs and set its forehead against his. Power drained from his back and he could neither moved nor cry out.

For several long seconds, he struggled against it to no avail. He mentally retreated, finding it chasing him through his mind until he Reached deeply into his consciousness and drew power from the Matrix.

The alien whispered then whined then wailed then screamed. It sat up, hissed and bit his shoulder deeply before struggling to free itself of him.

Optimus kicked it right in the middle, smashing it against the wall. It hissed and sunk all its claws into his sides. Prime moaned this time, really feeling the surges of pain it sent into his body. But that did it no good. Prime suddenly grabbed it round the neck, and yanked it out of him, slammed it on the floor, dragged it up, slammed it into the wall this time cracking its head. It hissed in pain and tried to spit a stream of black ooze at him.

Optimus unceremoniously broke its neck.

**LATE OCTOBER, 2038 **

**ADYNE (EARTH) SYSTEM, OUTSIDE OF PLUTO**

Galvatron and Cyclonus entered the Earth system with extreme caution. If they were here already, the Quintessons would have every nook and cranny of space heavily guarded. They approached and passed the first outpost with no problem. The eerie thing was that they saw no activity there. No lights, not so much as human movement anywhere. They crossed the Voided Space, an area considered off limits because of high ion activity. Being Decepticons, it never bothered them. From there they arrived at the Pluto Autobot outpost and lightly landed

Neither Human nor Autobot inhabited the solitary building. Cyclonus and Galvatron examined every room, finding clues of struggles, traces of energy marks left by the Quintesson lords and one unmistakable bloodied imprint of a human splattered against a bulkhead.

"Seems they were all taken by surprise, Galvatron." Cyclonus reported from the Observation deck.

Galvatron did not answer him right away. Down in engineering he shuffled through electronic newspapers and magazines. He glimpsed over digipads and discovered several unused energon cubes. He found a video camera still operating and retrieved the disk. "Cyclonus," he called over their comlink, "join me downstairs."

The two sat in chairs, slowly taking in the tasteless (to them) Autobot energon. At first the video disk showed nothing significant. One Autobot played chess with the computer while a human female scribbled something on paper. Later, the Autobot left and the female 'interfaced' with a human male. Both Decepticons made faces at the display.

"Humans are such disgusting creatures." Cyclonus muttered.

Galvatron did not add to the remark. They observed as another Autobot came in later, checking and rechecking some readouts. "I dunno, Sandstorm," he reported. "Somethin' was out there, then there weren't nothin'."

"Just keep an optic out on check." came the reply. "Could be a meteor."

The Autobot turned toward the video camera when a flash of light flooded the room. Galvatron stopped drinking and stared intently. The Autobot reached for his weapon, but was shot on sight. A Quintesson lord floated over the body and touched the comm button. "All is clear. Proceed with Phase Two."

Galvatron stretched and shut the video off. His optics held Cyclonus sternly. "They've gotten a hold of phasing technology and are using it to transport over long distances."

"Gating?" Cyclonus guessed.

"No. The transport of an entire army into one location all at once, Cyclonus. We'll have to be careful when approaching other planetoid bodies." He waited, reading his friend's face.

Cyclonus stared at the silent console. No expression. "How do you propose to find Optimus Prime, Mighty One?" he asked, adding the title by habit. "If the Quintessons have complete control of this system."

"I will find him." Galvatron assured him. He himself didn't know how, but he knew he would find Prime. Perhaps in pieces, but alive.

Several days later they entered Jovian space, sneaking around fourteen Quintesson ships. To Galvatron's dismay, the 'floating bags' were busily constructing a space station out of their ships. Actually, the Quintessons weren't doing any of the work. Humans and captive Autobots (a few from the Pluto outpost, the Decepticons noted) were doing it all for them.

Nothing changes, the former Decepticon leader thought dryly. He and Cyclonus watched as Quintesson guards executed several humans by mercilessly removing their space helmets. The guards laughed. But Galvatron didn't think it was that funny.

Nothing was ever that funny.

They landed on Phoebe, one of Mars' little egg-shaped moons. There wasn't so much as footprints on the tiny twelve-mile moon. The two Decepticons observed Mars as best they could from orbit. A strong windstorm blew across the planet's surface. Galvatron stood from his crouching position. He remained deadly silent and his companion stepped beside him.

Cyclonus said nothing for a long time. He waited until he felt he could not be patient much longer. "Is he down there?"

Galvatron's optics glowed. "He must be." He could feel Cyclonus staring, wondering why he hesitated. Galvatron himself was uncertain. He didn't know what to expect from here. Would Prime fire on him at first sight? That was a stupid question, of course he would! Galvatron smiled inside. He would too. Still, he and Cyclonus were considered unarmed, even by Human standards. They really had no weapons to boast of. And if he went in empty-handed, Prime would most likely be willing to listen. Optimus Prime was so predictable!

At first Galvatron thought that was funny. Then he changed his mind. No, it wasn't funny at all. It was . . . wonderful. It was wonderful because he could **count** on Optimus Prime. He could trust Prime to be the same in any situation and for the first time in his life, the former Decepticon leader was grateful to Optimus Prime's immutable nature.

Six dark triangular ships ripped the metal flooring with twin pulsar-phase cannons mounted on their wings. One building after another blew, spewing glass and metal shards. Autobots and humans alike scurried like glitch mice in every direction. The noise was deafening, the scent of burning metal and flesh (from the humans) filled the air with an unpleasant rotting smell. Buildings shattered and roadways crumpled like pie crust. Autobots scampered out of the inner city area, leading the majority of the attackers with them, trying to draw the battle outside the fortress city.

Optimus landed in the thickest part of the battle, ordering the Clones in bizarre maneuvers through the enemy line, executing moves only the two could pull off without breaking their timing.

Strike Back slipped beside Prime as he snapped in a recharging unit on the underside of his twin-barrel plasma rifle. "Looks like they've started a party on our property and brought their own bouncing boys, Prime."

Finally Prime turned to his city commander. "Strike Back, we will have to leave Mars. I've already ordered Quasar to take a shuttle and depart-"

Strike Back's mandible dropped. "L-leave Zenith? But that's absurd! We can fight these things. We just need better fire power, that's all."

Prime glared at him. "These ships are the first attack, Strike Back. The Infantry will be next. The Destroyer Class will follow shortly and we do not have the fire power to combat the Destroyers."

We can lick these things!" Strike Back insisted. "Well pull the Walker defenses."

Optimus didn't get to punch Strike's lights out like he wanted. A spark of light caught their attention and a 'Destroyer Class' attacker phased in from nowhere. Optimus kissed the ground, pulling the idiot city commander down with him. A laser struck out and obliterated the wall behind them. Optimus dared a glance, but did not get back up. Strike Back sat up and gasped, his optics bright with fear and horror.

"Primus!" He whispered.

The four-legged creature resembled nothing the young Autobot had ever seen-even in Earth movies. It had an insect-like design, but clearly portrayed an intellect not to be underestimated. It, like the assassin Prime fought earlier, had no face. It shrieked and a pair of pincer-like devices snapped out from the sides of its face. It charged for them.

Optimus leapt to his feet and pummeled into the thing using both his fists. The creature squalled, flipping backwards from the incredible impact.

Prime expected Strike Back to finally turn tail and run, but the commander chose to remain and fired at the creature, missing (?) And aimed again. But Prime grasped him round the neckline, dragging Strike Back to stare him in the optics. "Get my people OUT OF HERE, Strike Back!" Prime grounded dangerously.

Strike Back whacked Prime's grip off his body, trying to look as angry as possible. "You think we're going to escape through those things?"

It scampered back to its feet and charged them once again. But before Prime could give it another 'loving' blow, a laser shot past him and hit the creature in an area between the neck and the chest. The creature's head fell dead off.

Prime and Strike glanced behind them and found Tempest, a femme triple changer smiling at them. "It isn't everyday I get to save my own bosses." She cooed.

Prime did not give her any further recognition. Not because he was being hard-nosed, but that she was smug enough. "Tempest, we need to set the Walker defenses to afford everyone else time to evacuate the city."

Tempest hopped from the roof of what remained of a nearby crushed building. Around them thunderous sounds of bombs echoed and bounced from one side of the fortress-city to the other. "That's what I came to tell you, Commander. Walker-defender number three is toast. I think we can still activate the other three. But I'll need cover fire."

Prime nodded. "Strike Back, take up the western front. See to it that SOMEONE gets off this planet."

Strike Back finally agreed to that and he and Tempest transformed. Prime followed the white saber-toothed lioness that was one of his security officers. She dodged laser fire like a pro, leaping more from one wall to another as much as she ran over the damaged metal flooring. Prime drove in auto mode as far as he could before having to transform to alternate mode and dashing behind, covering her by drawing most of the invisible attacker's fire to himself.

Leaping down into a plaza, Tempest landed in a large fountain. The pool of water now mixed with Human and Autobot blood swished about her feet. She approached the centerpiece with little difficulty and manually pulled the arm of a dancer-statue down. The statue, a graceful humanoid female danced beside a sea monster, separated from the monster and a monolith rose up between them.

"Oww!" Tempest started more in surprise than pain. Her hand had been seriously damaged and gazing right at one o'clock, she faltered at the sight of a gigantic Destroyer Class alien staring down right at her.

Optimus leapt to her rescue and fired at the thing's neck. "Are you badly damaged?"

"Well . . . I think I can manage." She said that just before her hand snapped with broken wiring and leaking fluids. She flinched in shock and pain. Optimus swiftly laid a hand on her and most of the pain fled. She stared at him in surprise, but he did not return her stare.

"Transform and cover me, then." He ordered.

Her surprise was such that she almost didn't hear him. But she quickly complied and used her alternate form to harass the monster above them by sending two plasma-acid rockets its way.

Prime entered a three-coded sequence of numbers and yanked out a sheet of metal from between two slices of stone. The stones slammed together and the whole fountain lit up to indicate the defense sequence was on-line. Three towers on the floor above them rose like dark gods awakened by the disaster. The movement drew the Destroyer's attention and it watched as they unfolded into three insect-like robots. The fortress' intercity defense system was a surprise he and Roddi cooked up a long time ago.

The three Walkers attacked a group of Destroyer Class, smashing them like so much glass, the outer shells cracked and leaked a dark fluid.

A thunderous roar shot through the city's damaged walls and a light shot upward. Prime and Tempest watched with relief as a shuttle shot right out of Mars' orbit. It was soon followed by a second shuttle, then a third. For a few moments, it looked like the Autobots would finally get the upper hand. Optimus could feel Tempest's hopes rise as the creatures all around them were easily crushed under the tall structures of the robots towering above them.

"Tempest," Prime called quietly, "let's go."

"Why?" She asked innocently. "It won't be long now, Optimus. I mean, they're being destroyed right in front of us."

He didn't answer her, taking her by the arm instead and leading her toward the nearest shuttle. She kept glancing back, watching with glee as the Walkers slashed the remainder of the destroyers. She couldn't understand her leader's odd behavior, but she followed him nonetheless.

Then she discovered why he insisted on leaving the area:

Two Destroyer Class aliens phased in and the moment their bodies attained solidity, they grew in size until they were the same size as the Walkers and she cried out, staring in terror as the battle turned.

Prime grabbed her and dashed. They dodged laser fire and flying objects as the city rocked and other buildings fell, metal shards and whole bulwarks slammed into the ground all around them. One wall came screaming from the sky and Prime just barely dodged as it crashed right in front of them. The moment it landed, he jerked the femme behind him and made another mad dash.

"Optimus!" She cried, "Stop! We can find a place to hide instead!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, blue optics blazing. "Can you hide from the wind, Tempest?" He snapped. She could not answer him, even if she had time to do so.

A light flashed in front of them and two Destroyers and an Assassin phased in. The Assassin pointed at Prime. "T'cht drom." It ordered.

The Destroyer-class alien to the left lunged and Prime dodged the attack and called his rifle from subspace. But his shot bounced off it and it shrieked and rammed him into the nearest bulkhead. Optimus hit it too hard, losing his senses for a moment. It swung its head and tried to nail him with unbelievably long teeth. Optimus just barely moved out of its way before it snapped its jaws shut. It tried to bite him again and Optimus punched it in the 'face', its head merely rebounding as though connected to a spring.

Prime rolled back over his shoulder and fired at the monster, aiming at its face where he assumed the eyes might be.

No good. He cussed in his own language and tried to dodge as it attacked him again. Tempest aimed several shots and found even her plasma-acid pellets did not faze the dark four-legged creature. Optimus stood between them as though trying to protect her from possible attack.

"Run." He told her quietly.

"I can't leave you!" She whispered back.

"Just do it, Tempest. They're not after you."

Had she done what she was told, they might have had half a chance of another mad chase through what was left of the damaged beleaguered city. But an Infantry Class leapt from above and landed on her. The attack distracted Prime and gave the Destroyer a chance to attack him. It slammed him into another wall and he found recovery slower than he needed. He rolled when it actually fired at him from a set of pincers. The pincers snapped back and Prime kissed the ground, rolling for his lost weapon.

One tapered leg pierced clear through his left arm, scraping the ground from the other side. Rather than screaming in pain, Prime converted his reaction into a forcible kick to its underside.

It squeaked in surprise and pulled off just before the Assassin stepped in and added to the gash in his left face plate. Prime didn't even see the alien move. He started to move to his feet when the thing struck him again, this time on the neck, inserting a small needle. The Autobot leader fell to his knees, trying to grasp it. But the foreign object wormed its way into his exostructure and began to change the composition of his life blood.

"We have what we came for. Kill the femme. She is useless. We will take the Prime Unit back to our allies."

Optimus tried to attain enough resolve to beg for her life, but nothing would come into words. Her scream was muffled as they ruthlessly tore her body apart. Optimus shoved his mind far away from that silent cry of death. But he felt a cold blackness touch him. The Matrix felt the death and he took that pain.

Another Infantry Class joined the first one and they dragged him to their destination.

Optimus had hoped to buy his people time to escape, but it seemed that once again the Quintessons had out-thought him. The aliens pressed forward in their resolve and he gazed atop a level as a troop marched across the Northern R and D Square like walking tweezers.

The day slowly came to a close on Mars. In about six hours, the aliens had made a disaster of much of the city, hacking buildings down like so many trees. Plasma fire had lit part of the fortress, producing a soft blue-green light that grew as daylight died.

For a few minutes, Prime managed to walk under his own power, but he lacked the strength to fight and escape his captors. He staggered suddenly and leaned against a damaged bulkhead. Dizziness assailed him and he fought for consciousness. It felt as though something had struck him hard, although he felt nothing touch him physically. For another brief moment, he thought his exostructure burned, leaving him trembling.

He weakly shook his head and tried to concentrate.

_Ru s-s-s-ti . . ._ he thought. _Rusti . . . Stay with me._

He tried to shake his head of multitudes of visions that flashed through his mind too quickly. Something about an equation and something that wasn't finished. Something of great sadness and . . . she cried. She cried.

He Reached for her, not realizing two Infantry were dragging his weakened chassis into a cleared area within the city. All around sat and stood wreckage and debris that was once the great fortress city of Mars; a promise of prosperous trade and friendly relations with other races throughout the galaxy.

They shackled Prime by vibro chains, held in the arch of a frame made of energy. Before him a congregation of Quintessons, aliens and his own people sat watching a trial in progress. His thoughts still drifted in Rusti's direction so that he could not make sense of the trial. Not that the trial was really a trial, merely a mockery; the Quint's way of mentally distressing their victims.

"And you yourself would not deny the questionable leadership of your ruler Optimus Prime?" A single-faced clawed Quintesson Chancellor stood before the Autobot leader. Prime realized the group's attention had just been drawn to him and he tried to find a way out of this mess.

"He-he has always been . . ."

"We have already clarified that point, Autobot Quipper." The 'judge' interrupted. "Of course, to you, Optimus Prime has always been the leader of the Autobots. Everyone is aware of that. But have you considered how he might have attained that position? Have you considered what kind of person lies beneath that facade of calm?"

Optimus glanced from the five-faced judge to Quipper. The Autobot seemed to feel very small and frightened and Prime tried to reach out to him, comfort his friend. Quipper was a xenogeologist and soil surveyor. He was also a climatologist and quite an expert on terra forming. Why were the Quints picking on him? He was not a demolitions expert or a navigator, a member of security or communications . . .

"W-well, I'd just never really thought of it. I'd just, uh, . . . "

"Follow orders?" The Chancellor finished. "Yes, I'm sure you were. After all, it's all in your programming. You are programmed to follow orders, are you not? Are you a fighter, Autobot Quipper? Do you know how to use a weapon?"

Now Quipper looked cross. "What kind of a question is that? You know the answer! I killed three of you-"

"There!" Shouted another Quint. "There you are, your Judgeship! Proof that the Autobots are tainted by the idea that there is only one leader! That Optimus Prime's rule is invalid, and detrimental to the race as a whole!"

"Protectorate Pendam-oanblan, are you proceeding to make another point without proper authorization?"

"Yes, Your Judgeship, I am."

"Here, I will grant you only one more interruption."

"Thank you, my lord. It gives me honor to point out that Optimus Prime is not the true leader of the Autobots, that he, in fact stole the Matrix from one Alpha Trion who retained possession of said object several millennia before the arrival of the so-called Autobot leader. I ask my fellow Autobot colleagues, just what constitutes an Autobot leader and what, precisely makes a leader so sacred, so set-apart from the rest of your species? Why not Alpha Trion? Why Optimus Prime? If you knew of his crimes, you would not be so quick to exonerate him or his position."

A dark four-legged shadow phased in from nowhere and tapped its way toward the front. The Infantry Class took a good look at Prime then faced the judge. "What means this?" It asked in Autobot.

"We are having a trial. If you wish to observe, I ask that you stand elsewhere."

"A waste of time. This is intolerable! You said we were to obliterate the cities, then advance upon the creatures and rip their sentience from them. This trial is a distraction. I ask you to cease."

The Chancellor stomped up in loud, clumsy steps. "The trial is designed to make them understand the nature of themselves."

The judge's faces shifted from Greed to Deceit. "Eighty-four point nine percent probability indicates Tyx is not willing to afford us the time to properly deal with the emotions of these machines."

"Atcht!" The Destroyer Class named Tyx swung its head back and forth like a bull readying to ram something. "I long to rip your tentacles from you! You're a miserable nuisance!" It spun around, its long tapered legs snapped and tapped the ground underneath. It just passed Optimus then flinched and paused a moment. It shifted back to him and peered into his face with its triangular-shaped piece. "Something familiar . . . yes. The memories of Baz (pronounced ba'zh) come to mind. You've seen us before, have you not, Autobot? You're the Prime Unit called Optimus. Yes. Yes. I recall. You led a band of Advaries against us on Yolthanis Three-and won. Your tactics were unconventional, but they worked." Tyx's head swiveled toward the judge. "Do whatever you will with the other mechanisms. But leave this Prime unit intact. I must question it."

The Chancellor bowed before the creature. "We would be happy to question the Autobot for you, Lord Tyx."

"Don't be a sl'kikik." It answered too quickly. "I will agree to your participation. I will assist you in the demise of Earth. I will pay you all too well for your cooperation. But I will not be taken for a fool. My race's collective memory is not something to underestimate. We all remember what everyone else remembers and we all remember how you cheated us last time. It will not happen again."

Neither Quint could answer the alien. The Chancellor offered a bow as the creature departed. But the moment it left, the Quint turned to Prime and activated an energo-whip.

"You!" It hissed. "You know these people?"

Prime gazed at him calmly. 'I know the Inoux, yes."

"How!" The Quint demanded. He drew the whip back for a strike. "How?"

"Yolthanis Three."

"To question an Autobot leader is futile." The Judge again intervened. "He may lie to you and you would never know the difference. After all, look at all these people with us who were beguiled by his lies. Autobots!" He called, "hear us! We offer you a better life! We will care for you and insure you will never go without energon. All you need do is lay down your hostilities and claim us your new leaders."

All he received were silent glares. "This is most dissatisfying." The judge surmised.

The Chancellor turned to him. "Shall we bring forth the Sharkticons to commence execution?"

"Negative. We will proceed with the execution ourselves.

Fear clutched Prime's laser core and he stood. "No!" He shouted. "Let the Autobots go. If you need to execute someone, execute me."

Quipper whined. "No! You can't. Optimus, it's not right!"

"Be quiet, Quipper. That's an order."

The Judge switched to its face of greed. "The Autobot underling has one quality that may be found redeemable; it is loyal. Execute the underling."

Prime fought against the force field restraining him. He could not break the energo field binding his hands. He fell to his knees, imagining what the Quints would do to Quipper.

The Chancellor approached the group of captive Autobots as two other single-faced Quints dragged the poor bot to the center of the ring and unceremoniously detached the armor plating that was his exostructure. They had to tear and/or cut muscle cords connecting to his plating. Poor Quipper whimpered and cried out as they worked him over.

The Chancellor waved his huge clawed hands before the Autobots to attain their attention. "Here, my colleagues, you will learn why you have been selected as a species to serve the great lords of the Quintesson Continuum. You are a humble people, worthy only of servitude. You do not understand or appreciate the full meaning and potential of freedom. We have returned to you in hopes of restoring you to your rightful place in the galaxy. It won't be an easy road for you to follow. But we assure you that when your reprogramming is complete, you will be happy, living fulfilling lives."

The words seared Optimus' soul. He had heard it all before. He didn't believe it then, he rejected it now.

FLASH.

**TIME: (?) EARTH: NOVEMBER, 2038, **

**CYBERTRON: 14939253.272**

**DESTINATION: BETA CENTARI SYSTEM, PLANET LUNARPHYTE**

"I'm so sorry." She spoke softly.

He only sent a puzzled look.

"I couldn't help but notice how sad you are. Your soul is gone."

Prime blinked and tried not to laugh. "What's that?"

"Your soul." She repeated. "It's gone. I couldn't help but to feel it when I came in the room. Your sadness is almost overwhelming. I simply came to tell you how sorry I was."

**TIME (?) EARTH: NOVEMBER, 2038**

**CYBERTRON: 149393253.272**

**DESTINATION: (LUNARPHYTE . . .?) UNKNOWN**.

Koontah frowned, his ears wilted. "It's really the best I can do under the circumstances. The Quintessons have damaged so much and I have no authority to intervene. They've delved into the next universe over. I tried to block them, prevent them from opening the window there, but . . . it's not working."

"There must be something you can do." Prime insisted. "You've told me if one universe collapses, they all follow. Koontah, there must be something you can do."

Someone screamed and at first Prime thought it was himself. He had been there before. He had been many things and many places before and he knew that scream. He knew what all it entailed. He had lived that scream, carried its horrible notes in his soul. What agony! Pain ripped right to the soul and there was not one thing you could do to avert it. If you were lucky, if you were given some sort of kindness by whatever higher power you believed in, you were allowed to scream. And sometimes Optimus found he could scream, sometimes he could not. That scream, that same audio-blowing, nerve shattering scream echoed the very one in his own soul. He shut his optics and tried to shut it out. But it was a mirror and Prime could not run away from that mirror. Oh, Primus, if only the other Autobots knew what he went through! Not just day to day, but every battle fought, every moment that required more than his own strength just to keep going! They were only children. They did not realize how precariously their lives teetered on the balance!

Optimus tried to retreat from the reality of the situation, but he knew there would be no aversion. And he honestly did not have the emotional strength to endure what the Quintessons were doing to Quipper.

They yanked off his arms and slapped him using his own hand units.

They jammed objects into his body and drank his fluids as they leaked from his wounds.

FLASH.

It wasn't Quipper that sat on his knees there anymore, but Hound. Dear Hound. They had stripped him of his plating and sliced up his muscle cords. He wept and begged for mercy. The Judge told him in a sickening-sweet voice to denounce the power of the Matrix and his belief in Primus. They drained him of lubricant so that his joints moved painfully, so that some components overheated.

Hound!

And it left. There Quipper remained, his torso now without arms. He remained kneeling before his tormentors, begging for mercy of some kind. The Quintessons told him it was the only way they could save him. It was the only way they could redeem his people, by making them watch him die so that they might understand . . .

"See your leader there." The Chancellor cooed. He looked to Prime, and the moment he did, his face changed-a grey bony face almost humanoid with oversized dark eyes and a multi-structured frontal lobe. Cold, emotionless savages who gave little regard to life, using it only for their benefit, for furthering their research and prosperity.

The Matrix knew them and remembered . . .

They poured acid into his back and Quipper's screams renewed with vigor. He squirmed and bucked, thrashing his armless body up and down, slamming himself repeatedly on the ground unable to stop the flow of the destructive chemical. He wept anew and hurled curses at them in three different languages. But they paid him no heed.

Two other Quints phased in before the assemblage bearing a small grey metallic box. They motioned to their peers to move aside. One Quint carefully set the box down next to Quipper who now lay half down, his face on the ground, his knees tucked beneath him. He looked so pitiful, an armless mass of wires and sliced tubes wrapping a metal skeletal frame. His screams had slowed to sad whimpers.

Optimus could feel him dying. The empathy kept him from even considering escape attempts. For the moment his soul connected to that poor shadow of a creature. He had been there. Why, why did they do this to one who was incapable of enduring such torture?

The worst of it was that Optimus knew what was in that box. He didn't know if he could handle watching what was next. He didn't know how he was going to endure this.

The box opened on remote control and the Quints watched intently as tiny robo-ticks poured out of the box and covered Quipper's body. Quipper sat up on his knees and gazed at the tiny invaders like a child who had just discovered he had freckles.

The Judge switched to his face of Death. "The preliminary reaction is always the same." He mused.

Quipper's voice pitched into a new shriek. He rolled over on the ground, crying and screaming, trying to rid his body of the microbugs. His body flared red as they devoured him bit by bit and swarmed around him as they grew wings and ate further and further into his systems. He managed to his feet at one point, a living corpse staggering with a last effort to survive. He stumbled right for the Judge as though attempting to infect the Quintesson with the same evil punishment. But he never got that far. His tattered frame collapsed as the robo-ticks devoured him, wires, connectors, tubing, frame and all. His screams died, leaving only haunted echos in those forced to watch.

The Chancellor called in an extinguisher from subspace and hosed the robo-ticks to death. By the time the foam had abated, there was nothing left of the Autobot but a slice of his face plate.

"That was most entertaining." The Judge quipped. "How about that female there?" He asked pointing to a white, gold and light green female Autobot. "Let's make another example of her."

The femme felt her laser core cease its vibrations. Her optics turned to Optimus, but he simply sat in a kneeling position, a blank expression on his face. He was clearly in shock.

Galvatron and Cyclonus descended into Mars' frigid cold atmosphere. A 'lovely' eight-degree day iced into a minus one hundred at night. It stood like a tomb: dusty, windy and flat. The two Decepticons searched what was left of the lighter side of Mars as the sun plunged the planet into darkness.

Trudging up a permafrost slope, the two encountered the fortress-city of Zenith. It stood in death, a great hole gaped from one side. Solar panels lay in shattered pieces, leaving the city basically naked. Bodies and scrapped buildings littered the ground as cold reminders of a great battle. Galvatron set his face plates with determination. As silent as the city stood, it seemed a miracle if any one survived. Wordlessly, he led Cyclonus down into the valley of the city, their prints stirring light ice crystals and dust as they skidded along an unmade path. They came across the first body; the dark crumpled form of a Destroyer Class Inoux.

Cyclonus stared at it warily. "What is it, Mighty One?"

"An Inoux." Galvatron gave it a kick and the creature's exoskeleton crunched under the impact.

"Inoux?" Cyclonus' soft haunting voice filled the moment with disbelief. "But they were only a legend, a myth."

Galvatron's optics flashed at him. "Not many things in Decepticon mythology are false, Cyclonus. Not the Dwellers, not Primacron, not the Rock Lords. And not the Inoux."

He swung away and Cyclonus could tell the appearance of the creature angered the former leader. Galvatron for some reason was unhappy about this turn of events.

The two cautiously entered the city, stepping over bodies and refuse. One Autobot had a hole blasted clear through his thorax. Everywhere bodies of the Inoux lay in the cold Martian night air. Some of the bodies had been impaled on levers and poles--Prime's work. Now and again the two Decepticons would encounter a Quintesson, mostly with tentacles ripped off, one or more faces missing. It seemed the expressions of the dead were always of shock.

Served them right, Galvatron mused to himself. He squatted before one such dead creature as it lay in a pool of blue-green blood. They chose to fight the Autobots on Prime's own turf. He rose and would have walked away when his optics caught the sight of a curious little black box attached to a silver handle. He swept it up and examined it, finding digital readouts and five buttons on one side, a hematite facing on the other.

His red optics narrowed in curiosity. What kind of weapon was this?

The patterns of dashing boots touched his sensitive optics and he and Cyclonus both snapped to attention. They exchanged glances and Galvatron pointed left for Cyclonus while he snuck right. The darkness, the distortion clouds rising from smoldering plasma fires and debris made excellent cover for someone sneaking around. Galvatron silently crept to the underside of a bulkhead and peered over the body of a fallen Autobot. He spotted a shadow moving in darkness and ducked when it seemed to cast a glance in his direction. He slithered out, barely touching anything around him. Cyclonus jumped the invader first, surprising their would-be victim. It growled and tossed Cyclonus like a doll. The Decepticon lieutenant slammed against a support beam and lost his wind.

The shadow tromped its way over and around trashed buildings and bodies and grasped the Decepticon round the throat. "Rog. You not Autobot. Too good construct."

Cyclonus vainly struggled against its grip. "What . . . are . . . you?" He wheezed.

"Falx not like sissy Autobot questions. You answer Falx. Why you not look like Autobot?"

By some measure of light, Galvatron could see the outline of the creature holding his friend in a vice-like grip. Cyclonus struggled to no avail.

'Manticore.' came to Galvatron's mind. The thing looked like a manticore, something like an Earth manticore standing on two legs. He drew a high-frequency laser rifle and shot at the creature. It dropped Cyclonus in a heart beat and snarled in Galvatron's direction. The Decepticon assumed it was well worth the price. The manticore charged for him and Cyclonus called his rifle from subspace and fired at the beast from behind.

To their horror, a light shot from the beat's middle, head to tail, and the creature split in two. Cyclonus cried out in surprise when a small robot leapt out of the beast's halves. It transformed into a Cybertronian-designed jet and aimed right for him.

Galvatron welcomed the Manticore 'shell' with a solid punch, forcing the creature to slide several feet into a pile of rubble.

"What is this!" Galvatron demanded to no one.

"Idiot!" The manticore snarled. "Don't you know a Pretender when you see one?" It charged him again and Galvatron wished he had his cannon. He'd make short work of this beast.

It charged him again and Galvatron leapt, flipped over and landed right behind it. The monster skidded to a stop, swung around and met the Decepticon's fist, knocking it off balance for a moment. But it was a moment the beast was not able to recover. Galvatron kicked it in the chest, chinking a hole in the plating. The Pretender sailed through the air and smashed into a bulkhead, crashing face-down into a puddle of Quintesson blood.

The manticore shell moved to rise when Galvatron slammed the barrel of his laser rifle in one optic and raised the setting. "Where's Scorponok?" He asked

"Skor-who?" The shell winced.

"You heard me, Fleshling imposter! Scorponok, leader of the Decepticons!"

"Raaaggg! There is only one Decepticon leader, my little oil smear. I answer only to Decetron!"

A sonic boom rang in Galvatron's audios and the next thing he knew, he lay flat on the filthy ground, the Pretender's Center towered above him, a phase rifle set to vaporize poised above his cranium. "This one," the Center announced, "has to be taught a lesson. And if I have to send him to the Pits to keep him from forgetting, so be it. Oh, hello, Exhaust Spit. Sleep well?"

Galvatron's optics narrowed and in one smooth motion he swung up, knocked the rifle from the robot's hand, flipped the Pretender Center off its feet, cracked the other optic from its Shell's face and blew the Center to pieces. The Shell shrieked and leapt, but Galvatron took advantage of its blindness and punched it again.

Cyclonus simply blew its empty head off.

The two renegade Decepticons stared at the Pretender in silence. After a moment, Galvatron set his rifle back in subspace. "It seems Decepticon technology has changed in our absence, Cyclonus." He announced.

"It mentioned 'Decetron' as leader of the Decepticons, Mighty One. But there was no Decetron among us." Their optics met, but Cyclonus could not read any emotion from his friend. "A new faction, perhaps?"

"Possibly." Galvatron grunted. He moved forward in their search. "Question is, where is everyone? That . . . thing could not be the only mechanism living here."

FLASH

He and Starscream were going to place attitude exchangers in the Ark (2). . . no, stupid! Galva/Megatron slapped himself mentally. It was a plot to change Optimus Prime into a Decepticon. By using a program similar to the robo smasher, Megatron felt certain he could rewrite Optimus Prime. Naturally Starscream scoffed at his idea, reminding him of other times he made similar attempts-the imposter created to lure the Autobots into a crevice full of carlonium crystals, for example. True, he tried to 'reprogram' Prime even then. But not quite like this.

But that flesh creature, Dr. Harding screwed his plans by rewriting her plans-and the satellite so that rather than creating energy for Earth, it drained energy-a certain form of energy.

But not before so much damage was done. Primus, the damage was sweet! Megatron could not believe how destructive Optimus Prime could be!

The irony of it was that in the end, Prime set out on a war path right for the Decepticons and it took Megatron himself, Soundwave, Starscream and Astrotrain to restrain Prime long enough for the satellite's signal to access the rewritten program

and erase it.

After that . . . after that Megatron vowed he would never make an attempt like that again. Nor would he ever underestimate the power of Optimus Prime. Still, how could anyone with morals and standards so squishy-soft be so terribly powerful? It made no sense!

But it was a contradiction Megatron finally learned to respect. And after the cleansing of the Hate Plaque, Galvatron learned to respect it althemore.

FLASH

The city stood drenched in its own life fluid. Galvatron stepped cautiously over and around debris somewhere in the coffin of a building. Evidence of battle took every room. The silence of death hung heavy, the silence louder than the Decepticon's own body movements. He paused and suddenly started. He'd lost time! What was he doing just a few moments ago? What was he doing here? The Decepticon tried to recall what he was doing, where he was going and it came back to him in bits and pieces, like a series of badly translated coordinates.

Galvatron snapped out of his mental lapse. "Cyclonus, report!" he ordered out of habit, but ordered just to hear something.

"Nothing." Cyclonus' deep voice whispered over their comline. "Bodies. Blood."

Galvatron nodded in agreement, saying nothing. He stood atop of what was the bulkhead of the building's fourth floor. A good two stories below him a pair of creatures moved, scavenging Autobot body parts and collecting whatever fluids were spilt during the battle. Disgusting creatures, Galvatron thought. More like Junkions or Scutzoids of sorts and he had more respect for the former than the latter. How often had he hired Scutzoids for missions he was not willing to send his own troops into? But then the former leader smiled to himself. Perhaps there was a use for Scutzoids after all: expendable manpower.

He caught himself suddenly and realized what he was doing. Old habits die hard, don't they?

He turned away from the scene below and doing so, his optics caught a flash of soft color several feet down in what was part of several rooms the building contained.

At first he was going to ignore it, but decided to investigate. Galvatron dropped, landing on his feet with a resounding thud, the power of his body echoed either way about him. Not far from where he stood lay the dead husk of an Assassin Class Inoux. Its head lay twisted in an ugly and uncomfortable position. Autobot blood splattered its body and colored much of what the Decepticon could see of the walls and flooring. Between the slant and spilt fluid, the floors proved slippery and once Galvatron nearly fell. From what he could assess of the damaged corridor, part of the building's downfall was due to the fight that ensued against its walls. A smile stretched across his lip components. A good fight took place here and he would loved to have seen it.

The wall nearby finally collapsed, blowing dust and micro ice crystals toward him. Galvatron didn't so much as flinch. He peered through the darkness into what was an office, or at least that's what he could tell since a desk lay upside down and several digipads littered the area. Some other piece of metal toppled off a ruined monitor and slid, skipped and tumbled over several feet of debris.

He paid it no attention and turned to leave when he realized the plate was a photograph.

Galvatron swept it up, staring through the darkness. The hard metal-based photograph was that of Kup, a very young Hot Rod and Ironhide.

"Mighty One." Cyclonus called. "You will not believe what I'm seeing here. Perhaps you would like to see it with your own optics."

The suddenness of Cyclonus' voice startled the Decepticon leader and at first he didn't know how to react to the very notion that he had been taken by surprise. But the moment passed and he flew out of the building, joining Cyclonus a moment later high up on what used to be a solar panel palisade. From there, the two silently watched as an Autobot wreathed in agony. Its arms had been savagely yanked from its torso. Its exo-plating had been removed, exposing delicate and sensitive circuitry to Mars' cruel atmosphere. Worse yet, the poor creature jolted like a rabid organic animal, trying to exorcize his body from a robo-tick infestation. He howled in agony, helpless to do anything about it.

Galvatron subconsciously touched his chest plate. He remembered Unicron's torment, how that powerful body of his betrayed him and began to eat itself up. He had no control, helpless against a god whose only destiny was the destruction of the universe.

What cruelty.

And this, this was what he felt there on the bridge of his new ship. This was what he felt in a future waiting for him.

The poor Autobot finally collapsed and the demonic Quintessons extinguished what was left of the ticks and the Autobot's body. Some dialog was exchanged, but Galvatron and Cyclonus were too far away to hear it. They waited until a single-faced Quint pulled a female Autobot out to the same place the former victim stood.

Galvatron could feel Cyclonus staring at him. His optics dimmed. "Cyclonus, let's crash this party."

FLASH

**TIME: EARTH DATE 2007**

**DESTINATION: ALPHA-DELTA SECTOR. THE BOWL-SHAPED ASTEROID**

Lt. Dromathon:

Let me explain it, Commander: those rings are ripples of chrono-energy. If the window isn't closed in the next hour, those ripples will spread through the universe from Cybertron to the Human's planet Earth and beyond into infinity to jeopardize the stability of the reality itself.

Co. Armadelidon:

What precisely is going to happen?

Lt. Dromathon

EVERYTHING! Some events will repeat in an endless loop. Other phenomena may reverse their natural order. Past and present will collide. Ultimately as every law breaks down, the universe will cease to exist.

Co. Armadelidon:

Well, is there anything we can do?

**TIME: EARTH DATE: 2007**

**DESTINATION: INDETERMINATE**

Koontah's entire frame stiffened with anger and if the Quintesson could see his eyes, he was sure they would be blazing. "I've warned you before." Koontah snarled, "I'll warn you again. Do not tamper with temporal physics. To do so will threaten the stability of reality."

"Rest assured, Ambassador, the universe is not a fragile thing. You are attempting to meddle in our affairs after you said you were not concerned."

"You've heard my warnings, Commander Aldathan. To open the time window will create other universes and parallel realities on those. To do that will send our own reality crashing like so many waves on the rocks of chaos. If you persist, if you do not heed my warnings, you will force me to take desperate measures. Do not tamper with the time stream."

Two weeks later, the Quintessons created a window that reached back eleven million years and they managed to successfully extract the one robot they blamed for starting the war between them and their slaves.

**TIME: END OCTOBER 2038**

**DESTINATION: FORTRESS MAXIMUS, EARTH **

Rodimus fell backward suddenly and a Quint from behind jammed a vibro-spear right into his chest. Rusti fell with the impact of Rodimus' submersion. She hit her head against a bulkhead, her back against a fallen railing. The city itself heaved and tilted again, diving to the right, sinking right into the ground. Rodimus' unconscious form rolled against the door post and pinned between a partition and the door frame. Rusti forced herself to swim back to Rodimus. Her head felt it had been split right open, her back hurt with every breath she drew. The girl made it back to Rodimus, grateful the attacker turned to Syntax, leaving Rodimus where he lay.

Rusti pounded on the Autobot's chest, trying to rouse her friend. Rusti backed away as dark fluid from Rodimus' wound colored the water. She swallowed hard, fearful of the inevitable.

Kup smiled sadly at her, "Don't cry there, lass. This kid's tough."

Rusti wiped her face and shivered in the cold water. She stepped back a little further as Kup rolled Rodimus face-up and carefully extracted the spear and tossed it aside. Rusti watched, fascinated and worried. Kup was very careful, taking into consideration Rodimus' other wounds. He touched the young Autobot across the shoulders then brushed his face.

Rodimus stirred, his arm lifted then weakly settled on his chest piece. Kup carefully helped him into a sitting position and waited. "Can you walk, son?" He asked quietly.

Rodimus looked confused and held his head as though fearful it would fall off. "I-I think I can stand . . . Kup." He replied wearily.

**TIME: 1999**

**DESTINATION: Mt. SAINT HILLARY, OREGON, EARTH**

A flash of white flooded the room. He heard no sound but the impact and suddenness shorted his optics and the very next moment, Optimus found himself laying flat on his back. He weakly rolled over and tried to force himself to his feet and could not. His body went limp, his mind struggling to order his arms to push him up. Up! Up, dammit! But all he could do was lie there like a helpless human child. He tried to signal for someone to help, but found he did not have the power reserves to attempt even that.

_"Someone has made a ripple in the time stream!"_

**MARS: 2038**

The Judge raised his eyes to the sky and his mouths gaped open in horror. The clouds washed over the sky and tears, like knife slices, appeared through them. The Judge screamed, calling everyone's attention. "Noo! The ripples from the time windows of 2007 and 2013 have touched!"

The words just barely escaped his mouth when something like a plasma storm hit and all of Mars shook, teetering on its orbit like a top about to tumble out of its spin. Phoebe smashed against the echo of that temporal force and blew like a hypernova, raining dust and micro meteors over the freezing Martian lim. All force fields evaporated and in the moment of chaos, Optimus fell forward and thought he was tumbling out of control through a tunnel of darkness.

All motion stopped and in a time he could not account for, he could hear a human heartbeat.

"Have you ever been Human, Optimus?" Rusti's little voice sounded in the slow silent moment.

"I have been many things." He heard himself answer.

"Na-uh." Her tiny childish voice rang back a moment later. "You've never been dead."

"You've never been dead."

His optics flashed on and he found himself free of the Quintesson bonds.

Nearby the Judge screamed again and by the time Prime was able to reorient himself to the present, the Judge was already being sliced and shredded by an Inoux Assassin Class. The alien itself snapped and tittered, clacking in its own odd language, possibly cursing the Quintesson as it ripped a face here, slashed part of its body there, yanked off a tentacle elsewhere.

Optimus regarded it as a form of retribution for what the Quint did to Quipper.

Quipper.

Unconcerned of what was happening to its comrade, the Chancellor produced a comline from subspace and screamed into it as another quake rattled the ground. Optimus did not hear what was being said, he merely ordered strength from somewhere inside and forced himself to attack the freak. His body acted accordingly and his powerful lunge knocked the Quint right off its balance and the two kissed the ground in a flay of tentacles and feet. The Quintesson shrieked in surprise and tried to draw a weapon. Prime crushed the tentacle holding the weapon and again the Quint screamed, blathering in Autobot profanity. Prime rolled to his feet, the Quint well balanced in his hands and with a swing, he hurled the Chancellor through the air and against the Judge's stand. The Chancellor recovered, but having less battle experience than the Autobot leader, was slower at drawing another weapon. The Chancellor lost his head in a bloody burst of sickly blue.

"Optimus!" Strike Back's voice rang over the air. "We've managed to commandeer a Quintesson escape vessel!"

"Best news I've heard all day." Prime snarled. "Get everyone aboard and set coordinates for Cratis."

The city commander froze where he stood. He was going to protest about Cratis when three figures folded in from nowhere behind the city commander. He turned to see what Optimus was staring at and gasped. The figures resembling a bear, a Minotaur and an alien bird built of silver all bore the Decepticon symbol somewhere on their bodies. Strike Back turned to Prime. "Quintesson reinforcements?" He asked.

No sooner had the words escaped Strike Back's mouth than a battle hammer plunged into his back and slammed him face-first into the ground. Prime jumped to help when he too was attacked. Optimus slammed into another building and shook off disorientation. He gazed left and found his attacker. The bear figure had the constructs of a triple changer. It stood taller than Prime with half a bear's face sitting on either shoulder and wings folded against its back. It yanked out part of a wall, holding the partition high overhead so as to crush the Autobot leader.

Prime jumped out of the way. It did him no good. The attacker clobbered him with another sheet of metal and Prime crashed against a pillar, the chunk of metal hit him hard on the side. The Autobot groaned, realizing too, that he had misplaced his gun. He spotted it laying some yards away and he glanced to make sure his opponent was in its spot.

It was not.

"Poor Autobot." Its oily voice cooed from everywhere. "Lost your little toy? How about your little city?"

Prime stood, glancing around, finding Strike Back locked arm and arm with his adversary. The third creature had disappeared entirely.

"Some leader." the voice called again. "Earth now property of the Quintesson Continuum. Soon Mars will be desolate planet." Prime met the ground face first and a set of razor-sharp jaws sank into his right shoulder. Massive weight prevented him from rolling over and the Autobot suppressed a scream.

The weight lifted one moment and the very next, the jerk above him transformed to robot mode. It set its head against Prime's and smiled viciously. "This good. I'll take your head back. They'll promote me."

"Don't count on it!" Prime growled. He was flipped around, pinned from the waist down. But the changer could not hold Prime's arms down and remove his head at the same time. No sooner would he lift one hand away from the Autobot than Prime would strike, punching it hard in the face. The robotic creature pinned that arm down, releasing the other only to gain the same result. The imbecile did this three times before he realized something was wrong.

"Having a problem?" Prime teased.

"Grrr! I'll bite it off you!" the other robot started to transform, giving Optimus a chance to move. He struggled until he flipped his opponent overhead.

The bear sailed through the air, smashing hard into another wall. It recovered quickly, however, changing into the huge alien bird complete with a razor-sharp crest and mounted cannons on either shoulder. Optimus swiftly took note that the creature was capable of throwing its bladed pinions. He leapt right with a hand spring, grasping his gun in one smooth motion. He aimed for the bird, sending it back against the wall with the force of his weapon. Then he gave his attention to Strike Back's opponent. Swiftly adjusting the power on his laser rifle, he burned a gaping hole in the other robot's back.

Something else pounced on Prime, growled then leapt off him and pounced Strike Back. Prime forced himself wearily from where he lay and would have shot the attacker had it not suddenly split in two. Another version of the half-crocodile, half-lobster emerged from between the halves, swung around and fired at Optimus. He ducked but hissed in pain when the laser grazed across his back.

The attacker squealed in frustration. "Shrike'g'dahl!" It snorted. And again it surprised Prime when it split in two and a twin version of itself fired at him from one position while the first half flew toward the Autobot. Optimus yanked up a section of damaged wall and flung it at the first half, only to get shot in the damaged shoulder by the other.

The first half of the gator-lobster easily dodged the metal chunk. "What was that?" It teased. "Are you trying to hit me? Hahahaha! You missed!"

Prime fired at the second half who hadn't stopped firing. The Second also spat something incoherent and transformed into a small spacecraft.

"Autobots!" The First sneered. "You're all hopeless! I'll make you a part of my new quarters-as the door stop!"

Prime swung suddenly and fired at the little creep. He managed to graze its hip plates and it howled. "What was that!" It shouted. "You missed again!"

Someone landed right behind Prime "I won't miss!" A deep stern voice sounded from behind Optimus. And the low-frequency laser slammed right into the First's face plate and the Decepticon fell with a gurgling scream. The second also screamed and just tumbled right out of the sky.

The distraction gave Strike Back the chance he needed and delivered a spiked punch to his opponent's face.

Prime glanced about to see who came to his rescue and upon seeing Galvatron's face, the Autobot lost his words. He stared in astonishment until the bear attacked him again. Prime and the Triple changer rolled over the shredded metal flooring. Prime tried to gain a foothold as they struggled for the upper hand. But neither could avail over the other before they fell over the edge of the platform, plunging into what was the fountain near the Walker activator. Prime landed on his back, the Triple changer looming above him, its jaws dangerously close to the Autobot's face plates. Prime barely held the powerful teeth at bay.

The Autobot leader lifted his powerful legs and once again just managed to throw the other robot off. Prime rebounded and quickly reached for his weapon. The changer came right back, jaws hungry for life blood. They clamped firmly over the same damaged area on his right shoulder and the Autobot cursed himself for being too slow.

That didn't matter. He punched the beast in the optics and the robot yelped. A surprising result. Optimus kicked the robotic animal as far as its weight allowed. It sailed through the air again, but instead of landing, it transformed, unfolding wings and changing heads.

Optimus glared at it, setting his fists on hip plates. "You can't be serious!"

The bird shrieked and swooped. Prime met it with a power punch, nearly sending it right back from where it came. But it recovered, changing back into its bear mode. It crouched just meters from where Prime stood.

The Autobot leader called his weapon from subspace just as the animal pounced and Prime dodged in the opposite direction. The bear crashed and the Autobot scampered for better footing.

He was fast, but not fast enough. Prime kissed the ground, and with a shriek, the bird came back. It settled its talons on Prime's back, sinking them deeply into its prey. Prime regained control of his gun and pointed it upward, shooting the bird's head off.

The talons withdrew and the robot transformed back to bear mode. "You good fighter." It congratulated. "But still need your head."

Prime scowled and if he had been human, he would have rolled his eyes. "Shut up!" He turned and blew the Triple changer's head off.

With a screech, a dark slender shadow leapt through the air and came right for Prime. He turned, anticipating full impact from his attacker.

But nothing hit him. Someone else suddenly stepped right in front of him and nailed the Destroyer Class Inoux in the neck. After a moment, Prime realized Galvatron stood right in front of him.

Galvatron. Galvatron? Optimus flinched in realization and stepped back. His physical condition was not conducive to another fight. He knew it, but wondered how well he could bluff about it. He wondered how much longer he could control the pain that raced from one end of his body to the other. The Autobot leader suppressed his emotions and stared at the Decepticon.

But Galvatron was not fooled.

"Prime," his voice sounded alien to his own audios. It seemed odd to say that name again, after all this time. It sounded familiar and Galvatron found it felt good to do something familiar. Ha smiled, but not to Optimus. "We need to talk."

They didn't get the chance.

An Assassin Class landed between the two of them. It punched Galvatron first, then Prime. It shot at Galvatron, using a weapon mounted on its wrist. It trained the same weapon on Prime, but flinched upon finding the Autobot had disappeared.

The heavy barrel of a dismantled laser cannon slammed into the backside of the Inoux and it flew several feet through the air. Galvatron sprung to his feet and met the Assassin hand-to-hand when it rebounded too quickly and kicked the Decepticon on the underside, throwing Galvatron off his feet.

The Inoux made the mistake of watching Galvatron fall because when it looked up, its face impacted with a power punch from Optimus and once again it went soaring over a bulkhead and onto a ledge. It dangled there a moment before coming to. It scrambled up, spun around and fired at both Transformers. The two leaders dashed round this wall, leapt over that pile of rubble, under that partition and danced over several bodies. They rounded a corner and leaned heavily against it. Optimus found he was oxidating and took inventory of his damage. He laid his hand on his chest plate, trying to order his body to calm.

Galvatron scanned him once. "You can't keep this up." He noted.

"Oh?" Prime spired. "I thought it was my imagination."

Galvatron's optics narrowed. "After a quarter of a century, you're still a smart ass."

Prime stared as though he were looking at a ghost. "Galvatron?" He asked again.

"Yes." The Decepticon answer pleasantly. "Missed me, did you?"

"What are you doing here?"

Movement caught Galvatron's optic and he spotted the Assassin sprinting right for them. "Saving your life!" He ducked and dragged the Autobot down with him. Two vibro discs sizzled through the air and sliced a partition as though it were soft butter. The two leaders peeked up from behind the body of a Pretender just as the Assassin hand-sprung for them. Galvatron called his weapon from subspace and would have blown the freak away had Prime not met it with another power punch to the head. The Inoux rolled with the impact, sprung backward then fired at them with its wrist weapons.

"Don't these things die?" Galvatron shouted above the noise of slicing metal.

"Not easily!" Optimus answered. He turned to their protective covering and leaned against it, hoping to buy them time to escape. But he didn't have the energy to push very hard. Galvatron applied his weight and the two struggled for a long moment.

"Prime," Galvatron called. "You should have joined Strike Back and the other Autobots in the shuttle when you had the chance." He huffed and pushed harder.

"I didn't know . . . I had a chance." Prime answered flatly.

The partition buckled under their pressure and collapsed. They glanced all around, finding nothing resembling an attacking shadow with tweezer-like legs. Prime climbed atop the fallen partition, walking over it as though it were solid ground. Galvatron followed suit, leaping a bit faster to catch up.

"Prime," he called again. "We need to talk." He waited a moment for an answer, but heard nothing. He took note the deep puncture marks left by the Triple Changer and the wounds inflicted by the other Assassin. It was a wonder Optimus was walking at all. Didn't he realize he was badly damaged? Galvatron shook his head. Autobots! He thought to himself. He followed the sullen Autobot leader back to the clearing where the trial had taken place. Several Quints lay dead, their slimy bodies shredded either by Inoux impatience or Autobot laser fire.

Optimus fell to his knees before Quipper's smoldering remains. After staring at the dark spot for a moment, he slowly reached for what was left of Quipper's face plate and dragged it a few inches before picking it up and cupping it in his hands.

"Prime, we need to talk." Galvatron's voice rang too loudly in the dead silent atmosphere. "They will be coming back and we are not equipped to wage a full-scale war with their reinforcements."

Optimus paid no attention. He felt Quipper's death and pain so intently. Quipper did not deserve what they put him through. Quipper was not a warrior, he was a newling of science and exploration. Autobots weren't warriors, they were children. Optimus' finger traced what was left of the outer ridge of the optic center.

Someone's heavy hand settled on his shoulder and he met Galvatron's optics. "It wasn't his fault." Optimus finally said. "He . . . was just a geologist."

"And you are in shock.' Galvatron surmised.

Prime carefully set the face plate on the ground. "So much death." He replied quietly. "They're all like a group of little tyrants, smashing a house of cards before you can finish the topmost tier."

He fell silent and Galvatron did not know what to say. But then Prime turned back to him, a bit surprised in his physical language, "Galvatron!" He flinched, but his voice remained soft, "You're back. What are you doing here? And why . . ." Optimus glanced all around them at the smoldering debris field. " . . . Why did you help me?"

"We made a good fighting pair, don't you agree, Prime?" Galvatron pointed.

Prime passed his hand over his forehead, his optics betraying his exhausted and disoriented state of mind. "Yes." He answered weakly. "But I've always known that."

"Optimus." Galvatron called, trying to be patient. "We don't have time for this. The Quintessons and their allies shall return and we should not be here. You must trust us. We will not harm you. But we cannot stay. Will you join us?"

Something in the way Galvatron said that reminded Prime of Hosehead and the last expression in his face before his spark extinguished. In vain the Autobot leader tried to push the memory aside, trying to remind himself that it was something he could not undo, something he could not dwell on. But he was too tired and too low on energy to fight off such despondency. He bowed over and buried his face. "They should have executed me." He said, not to Galvatron and not for the first time.

Galvatron thought Prime meant the Quintessons should have killed him instead of Quipper and sympathized with the Autobot. He had seen all too often what the Quintessons did for fun.

Galvatron laid his hands on the Autobot's arms. "Prime, we need to talk. We need to work together. The two of us would make a formidable team. I know you do not trust me now. But if you would let me prove myself, give me time, I could-"

"It would seem, Galvatron, I have no choice."

Galvatron caught Prime as he slumped, covering his face with his hands. Cyclonus softly landed before them and tried to wipe Decepticon Pretender life blood from his arms. "The Inoux have left the planet, chasing the last shuttle of Autobots, Mighty One." the lieutenant reported.

A gust of wind blustered across Mars' cold wasteland. Dawn broke and drew Galvatron's attention back to reality. Galvatron seemed only vaguely aware of his companion. "Prime," he whispered, "Think of something. We have to leave Mars." After a moment, he gazed up at the other Decepticon. "Cyclonus, we have to get him out of here. They'll return for him soon."

"They won't exactly be rolling out the red carpet for us, either."

Galvatron thought hard. They had to hide long enough for the Quintessons to think Prime either escaped their clutches or died. But where? Where could they hide? Certainly not on Mars. The Quints would most likely return and obliterate what's left of the city.

Prime made no movement, now. He slumped most likely in exhaustion. Galvatron realized after he caught the Autobot leader, Prime must have blacked out. Galvatron set his hand on the Autobot's back and shut his optics, concentrating. There. He found the soft vibrations of a laser core.

Galvatron's optics scanned the ravaged city. Its buildings stood like so many tombstones in the cold morning light. Beyond them, over the horizon, the former Decepticon leader could see the dry and desolate Mars landscape. Not one drop of water unfrozen. Why would anyone want to live on such an ugly piece of wasteland?

The desert's vastness reminded Galvatron of Earth's oceans. Standing on one shore, a person felt as though he were looking far into eternity. And the ocean was certainly prettier than this god-forsaken place. He had his answer! He held Prime closer, embracing the Autobot as one would a good luck charm. "Cyclonus, we're going to Earth."

**OCTOBER, 2038**

**EARTH**

The world closed in about her and Rusti's mind fell to darkness. Her equilibrium swung one way-and BLAAM! She plunged, her stomach now in her ears. She fell down, down, down and into water. She lost awareness her mother's womb was cold and wet.

She lost her ability to breathe and lost all air from her lungs. Dark and dark and down, down, down . . . the tunnel was lit with symbols that moved.

A figure turned to her and wordlessly pointed behind her. She understood what it didn't say to her: she didn't belong where she was. It wasn't her time to die.

Commotion erupted. Several people shouted all at once. Someone fired at someone else. Part of the doorway was smashed from bodily impact. Shouting. Gawd, even the walls were shouting!

She sat up in shock, gasping desperately for air. Something slashed her cheek and she cried out, collapsing. She clutched a wound that did not exist. Between the painful 'gash' on her cheek, the burn on her hand and the shock of cold air in her lungs, Rusti went into a coughing spell and rolled herself up into a ball and hugged herself tightly. She kept coughing until a huge warm metallic hand gently rubbed her back and the girl slowly calmed until she vomited water from her lungs.

"Easy there, Lass." Came Kup's gruff voice disguised as a whisper. Rusti struggled to get up, succeeding only in rising on all fours. She gave up trying to stand and sat, still coughing now and then. "Kup." Her voice squeaked in a tiny sound. "I thought we were the only ones, I mean, I thought we were all that there was . . . where' s the Quintessons? What about the aliens?"

"Whoa, easy, easy there, little filly." Blaster's voice sounded from another part of the room. "One thing at a time." Through the darkness, Rusti could see she and Roddi had been rescued by Kup, Blaster and Magnus. Not far from her, Rodimus sat against the consol, his head bowed either in exhaustion or unconsciousness.

Kup ruthlessly shoved a dead alien off the damaged computer consol and pried open burned and melted components. "Now let's see if we can't rewire this twisted over-sized calculator. Blaster, help me out here."

Rusti tried to crawl along the consol toward Rodimus when her body was carefully scooped up by Ultra Magnus. He brought her to his face, his blue optics shedding soft light over her. She hid from it, wishing she could just be left alone long enough to sleep.

"Are you alright?" Magnus's usual stern commanding voice almost whispered.

Rusti held her head and fell against his fingers. "I'm tired, Ultra Magnus." She answered in a mutter. "I can't seem to stop shaking."

"We must get her and Rodimus to one of the shuttles." Magnus growled at the other two. He received a glare from Kup.

"Not until we've rigged the self-destruct on this pig-iron plated puppy."

Magnus frowned, but didn't argue. He turned away from them and laid Rusti in Roddi's weak and cold hands. Magnus leaned forward, supporting himself against the consol over Rodimus' shoulder strut. "I managed to get three shuttles out of Earth's orbit. There's two more left-if we can get to them."

Rodimus didn't say anything for a very long time. He rested his head against the consol and drew a deep breath. "Something's gone wrong on Mars, Magnus." The Autobot leader almost sounded drunk. He could scarcely hold his head upright. "This whole attack came as a complete surprise. Why weren't we warned by Pluto or the space platform?"

"It's possible they were attacked before we. That being the case, this whole ambush was well-timed."

"No-" Rodimus suddenly flinched, his optics shutting off. Rusti fearfully glanced from Roddi to Magnus and back.

"What's wrong?" Magnus asked quietly.

"It's-I think it's Optimus." She answered. From the corner of her eye, Kup turned from the computer console.

"Done." He announced.

"Fine." Magnus accepted. "Kup, you and Blaster help Rodimus. I'm going on. Use the delta-one laser frequency to signal me."

He departed and Blaster set Rusti on his shoulder while he and Kup pulled Roddi to his feet. Rodimus staggered, hissed inward and fell to his knees. He moaned and whimpered as though struck by an invisible opponent. Kup and Blaster exchanged glances and Rusti mentally braced herself for the same shock treatment. But nothing came. She held on tight as Blaster bent over and helped Kup haul Rodimus back to his feet. After standing for a moment or two, Rodimus found the strength to walk again. They approached the doorway and he paused a moment, his optics shutting off then came back on as though resetting his systems. His whole frame straightened and although still trembling, he was able to walk on his own.

"I can't keep this up.' He announced. "We have to get off Earth now."

Just as he spoke, the corridor lights shot on and Rodimus transformed. Rusti slid off Blaster's shoulder and he caught her and let her down, transforming himself and landing on top of Rodimus' trailer.

Rusti got in and Roddi closed the door behind her, racing off with Kup in tow. "What was that?" She asked after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"What just happened?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"You." She clarified. "You're walking now. As though suddenly you were healed. I'd never seen anybody do that before. And how come the lights went on?"

"It's . . . an old Matrix trick, kiddo." Rodimus answered.

"The Matrix?" She shook her head. "What?"

"Optimus and I can draw strength from the Matrix. It's one trick the Decepticons have never been able to figure out. Just when you think you've killed the Autobot leader, or at least driven him to death's door, baam, he's coming right back for you. It's because we can draw power from the Matrix. When Megatron tried to take Earth by eliminating its communication systems, Optimus was seriously wounded by an aerial attack from Starscream and Thundercracker. Your Grandma Carly tried to help by using emergency transistors. But that would be like you using legos to repair a computer. Optimus reached within himself and drew energy from the Matrix."

Rusti glared curiously at the dashboard as Rodimus broke outside.

A rude glaring-bright morning met the girl's eyes and she shied from it. "Why didn't the Matrix save him when he died in 2005?"

"We really don't know, Lady Friend. That's one of those incidents that still goes unaccounted for."

She fell quiet after that. The bright October (November?) Morning sun exposed all the damage Fort Max had taken the night before. Plasma fires Rusti recalled from the night before turned invisible. Smoke rose like burnt offerings from an unholy alter. She tried to bite back tears. They fell anyway. This was her home. This was where she used to play and roam about in her mind. Now her home was destroyed.

Rodimus steered carefully around wreckage. He tried to use the comline until he could not see any use in it. He sensed Rusti's dismay and wished there were something he could say to cheer her up but he could think of nothing. It was just another battle to him, quite frankly. Another war fought and lost and they would somehow have to pick up the pieces and start over. Over and over, he thought dismally. That's all we do.

Nothing lasts forever.

They reached the Trion Courtyard, a quiet park-like area (before the attack) where most humans spent their lunch hour. Benches and tables, trees and a hanging garden once beautified this area. But nothing was left. It also laid in such a messy manner that Rodimus was forced to transform to robot mode.

"Guess the ride ends here, people." He announced to Rusti and Blaster. The two disembarked and Rodimus transformed.

Kup followed suit, assessing the area with a painful expression. "This was Goldbug's favorite spot in the whole city." He moaned softly.

Rodimus said nothing, wishing Kup had not mentioned Goldbug.

He swept Rusti up and carried her through the wreckage, sloshing through knee-deep blue water. The morning sun revealed the bodies of Autobots Device and Loadhigh as they sat hip-deep in water. The light of life in their optics long since dead.

Rusti felt sick, her eyes gazed left and right and found people both Human and Autobot submerged under water. "Rodimus, where did all the water come from? There are no fountains in this area."

"It's not from fountains, Rusti."

Rodimus' voice sounded so gravely. Rusti touched her chest, realizing this sight hurt him more than any other they had witnessed through the night. Perhaps, she thought, the hydraulics, powering the fortress, had a massive leak.

From a distance, sounds of exchanging gunfire boomed and zapped. Rusti hid her face. She didn't want to hear that anymore. They had already destroyed her home. What more could they possibly want?

Rodimus drew his rifle from subspace. "Keep your optics peeled on all frequencies, Autobots. Seems our party-boys want a second helping."

Just as he finished the sentence, the pounding of metal paws slammed over wreckage and ruined buildings. The four turned to greet Autobot Femme Syntax as she transformed from a black and mirror-silver Alaskan Husky. Rusti caught her breath at the sight. Syntax, Mirror and Tempest were created at the same time; sisters. "Commander!" She gasped, catching her breath. "I've-Mags-Ultra Mag'us came-"

Rodimus held up a calm hand. "Easy, there, soldier." He greeted. "You're skipping lines."

"Right." She stood straight then glanced wildly around them. "Magnus sent me to look for you. We must leave now! He said they're, the Quints . . . he knows, I mean, he remembers-"

she never was able to finish her words. A bomb landed closely and threw all five of them off their feet. And no sooner had the dust and smoke began to clear when the chattering sounds of marching 'tweezers' sounded in their audios.

Rusti gasped. Over the rubble came six Destroyer class aliens. They shot at the Autobots, hitting Kup in the leg, Blaster in the arm. Roddi swept Rusti up and back flipped behind a fallen wall. Syntax followed suit, taking two pot-shots, cursing and reloaded her weapon once behind the wall.

Rodimus also cussed in Autobot and Rusti giggled. He hushed her with 'that' look, but the smile never left her face. "Hey," he called to his people. "I'm open for suggestions!"

"One person covers while the other three make a run for it." Syntax swiftly offered.

Rodimus gave her 'that' look. "Have you ever seen those things run?"

She hesitated. "No."

"You don't run from them." He turned away and peeked over the ridge. The Destroyer Class had called a conference and were clattering and snapping in their own language. Rodimus turned back around and tried to keep his panicking mind under control. They were almost out of options.

"We could bulldoze them." Rusti's squeaky voice sounded in the silence.

Roddi's expression snapped to her. 'What?"

"When I play 'freefall' with the Dinobots, it means it's me against them. One tactic I've used is simply running right at them then doing something unexpected, like darting left, or jumping on one of them or dropping the ball and running under their legs."

Rusti thought if Rodimus could blink, he would have. "No wonder your mother worries about you playing with the Dinobots."

"Hey, it sounds good to me." Blaster chipped in.

"You're not helping." Rodimus growled. Rusti and Blaster exchanged a smile.

"Kup?"

"We tried something like that on Tetron-chamis. But it works only if everybody does something a little different."

Rodimus raised the power on his rifle, setting it dangerously high. "I'm covering. Syntax, head left. Blaster, swing right. Kup-"

"I've already got an idea-and I'll take the lass."

'Butterflies' irritated Rusti's stomach, but she did not protest.

"Go!" Rodimus ordered. They dispersed and dashed in determined directions. But the Destroyer Class seemed to anticipate their moves, forcing the Autobots to alter their plans by changing directions yet again. Rodimus had aimed to surprise them by ramming right through their lines in auto-mode, but he transformed back to robot mode instead and simply fired at them one at a time, eating all the power his rifle had to offer. When that ended, and three Inoux lay dead, he turned to using his arm weapons. Blaster was the last to escape.

Or so Rodimus thought. The three he knocked down came right back up and attacked him simultaneously. He engaged in one when Syntax in animal mode charged for another that came from his backside. She rolled with it and plunged her fangs into its neck. Blaster followed her example and slid in his tracks, back flipped and fired at two, who seemed to absorb his rifle's powerful frequencies. He resulted to a good old fashioned right cross.

Another Inoux came at him from behind and slashed his back down the left. He cried out, gave it a roundhouse kick then turned and gave the first one another punch. Its head blew off, but not from Blaster's futile attempts: Kup came to the rescue.

Another voice shouted in the air and Kup and Blaster both looked up and something else phased in. At the same time, the thunderous sounds of an Autobot shuttle echoed through what was left of Fortress Maximus. All the Destroyer class looked up also and two of them cursed. Roddi took the moment of distraction and snapped the neck of one opponent. He fired at another but it returned its attention to him and sprung. Rodimus tried to duck, but the four-legged beast adapted and pinned him like a bug on a board. He stifled a scream as it opened its massive jaws hidden in subspace and sank them into his neck and shoulder. It yanked off plating and muscle cords and circuitry and Rodimus tried to push it off to no avail.

The sounds of a landing ship did not distract the alien from its objective but Rodimus could clearly hear the sounds of three Quintessons disembarking from the plank of their ship. He had to get them out of there! He managed to just twist his arm enough to aim at the freak when it lowered its 'face' into his wound and began to drink split fluids.

TODAY THE AUTOBOT RACE DIES.

The words ran over and over in his mind and he struggled to concentrate. Between his exhaustion from the night before and the horrible thing the alien was doing to him, Rodimus struggled against shock.

TODAY THE AUTOBOT RACE DIES.

He lifted his arm just enough now and poured all his effort into one impressive blast.

The lasers did no damage to the Inoux, but the force knocked it off the Autobot leader and Rodimus slowly pulled himself up. If it hadn't been for Syntax who shot the creature in the neck, killing it, the alien would have pounced Rodimus again and simply finished him.

Two Quints fired, one hit Blaster in the chest. The Communications officer went down.

One Quint advanced on Kup. The older Autobot ducked behind a chunk of twisted metal, peering now and again to exchange fire. His attacker suddenly stopped shooting and acted as though its weapon had jammed or ran out of energy. Kup cautiously peered around his shield and fired, only to get shot himself. The firepower flipped Kup backwards. Water splashed high and wide with impact. Syntax stepped over her fallen comrade, covering Kup until he could recuperate. She shot his attacker square in the optics. To her surprise, the Quint squealed and fell over. Syntax repeated the procedure, ducking now and again, receiving scratches and cuts all along her body frame. The remaining one Quint kept dodging fire.

From behind a fallen partition, Rusti cursed her own miserable existence. There was nothing she could do to help them. With a malfunctioning exo-suit, there was little, very little she could do. Absolutely NOTHING was going right today! She leaned against the wall and slid down, not caring whether or not the water was rising to her shoulders. She wanted to do something; contact Ultra Magnus . . . anything!

Then as if by answered prayer, Rusti spotted a flare gun laying among the wreckage. Wow! Something DID go right! Better yet, not only was it loaded, the gun had an extra cartridge! She set it and fired one shot into the air then peeked over the ridge of the wall and fired at the Quint fighting Syntax.

It went down, its blue blood mingling with the water around it.

Her victory was short-lived, however. Two Assassin-class Inoux disembarked from the ship.

She swallowed air as the two charged for the Autobots. One aimed right for Kup, the other for Rodimus, a spear in its hands. Syntax leapt just milliseconds before the death intended for Rodimus was issued to her. The second Inoux impaled her with its spear and she and Rodimus went down in a shower of sparks and life blood.

"Syntax!" Rodimus cried out. The Inoux yanked the spear out of the femme's body and aimed for Rodimus' head. Rodimus rolled into the attack and pushed the alien off its pencile legs. The Inoux fell, spear and all.

Kup came to and he and Blaster fired at the first Inoux. It spoke, using clicks and chortlings. It fired at them, the two ducked and returned fire. The alien shrieked in frustration and from subspace produced an ugly dark weapon. It fired in four areas and each area blew as though a bomb had gone off.

"Duck!" Kup cried. "It's got an anti-matter weapon!"

TEN.

The area blew, everything that was, was no more.

NINE.

The muttering thunder of another ship deafened Rusti's ears and she leapt from her place when the Inoux pointed its weapon in her direction. She dashed just precious seconds before the gun fired and obliterated that entire section. The force split metal and debris into particles.

EIGHT.

The city moaned beneath them and heaved a hard left. Rusti lost her footing in the water and down she plunged, not realizing her fall saved her life. Above them an Autobot shuttle opened fire and destroyed the Quintesson ship. The Inoux lifted its weapon and aimed for the shuttle.

SEVEN.

Another Inoux phased behind Rodimus and grabbed him round the neck.

SIX.

The first Inoux fired but it never happened. It shrieked when ripples of energy intervened, canceling reality in just that very moment.

The other alien yanked Rodimus off his feet and jammed a vibro-spear straight into his chest.

FIVE.

Rusti came up for air, rushing toward her friends when she fell with the impact of Rodimus' submersion. She hit her head against a bulkhead, her back against a fallen railing and lost her wind.

FOUR.

Rodimus fell backward suddenly and a Quint from behind jammed a vibro-spear deep into his laser core. Rusti fell with the impact of Rodimus' submersion. She hit her head against a bulkhead, her back against a fallen railing. The city itself heaved and tilted again, diving to the right, sinking right into the ground. Rodimus's unconscious form rolled against the a partition and was pinned.

Rusti forced herself to swim back to Rodimus. Her head felt it had been split right open, her back hurt with every breath she drew. The girl made it back to Rodimus, grateful the attacker turned to Syntax, leaving Rodimus where he lay.

Rusti pounded on the Autobot's chest, trying to rouse her friend. Rusti backed away as dark fluid from Rodimus's wound colored the water.

THREE.

The spear impacted his chest and Rodimus felt all the light around him fade. Fade. Rusti screamed for him. The Matrix opened its arms to receive him.

AND AFTER DEATH, THE JUDGEMENT. WHAT DO YOU PLEA, AUTOBOT? WHAT WILL YOU SAY FOR ALL YOUR SINS? ARE YOU GUILTY?

Rodimus hid his face from the bright blue-white light. "I can't leave . . ." he heard himself moan. "Please . . . my friend will die. Is that what you want?"

TWO.

"Ripples . . . time flows like a stream and the lines have been disturbed."

He looked to Rusti with dark triangular eyes. "You are a catalyst. None of this is supposed to be. . . I warned them but nobody listens to me."

Rodimus drew one breath. "This is where I die, isn't it?"

AND WHAT PRICE, RODIMUS PRIME, WOULD YOU PAY?

"What price do you want me to pay? I've already lost so much . . . What do you want of me?"

The Roman soldier sunk a thick nail into a human hand.

Rodimus flinched.

"Please . . ." Rusti's little voice called from nowhere.

The Roman soldier sunk a nail into the other human hand.

"Please . . ." She repeated. "Don't let this happen."

ONE.

The pain pierced her right through her heart and Rusti gasped for breath she could not attain. She swallowed water. It entered her nose and rushed down her lungs. She struggled to get out of the water but gravity yanked her down and vainly she tried to swim to the surface.

The pain pressed mercilessly against her and the girl wanted to cry out, unable to do anything more than raise her face to the world outside her would-be watery grave. She coughed, losing more air and she thought she was going to die right here just like this.

Drowning in sorrow and fear for her friends.

Something lifted her out of water and just scarcely she could hear someone calling her name.

No! She was on her way down the tunnel. She was going to see the Matrix from a different point of view.

"I thought when people died they go to Heaven, Optimus." She once said. "Why do Autobots go to the Matrix?"

"Who said the Matrix isn't a doorway, Rusti?" He asked.

Bright light hit her, but it wasn't heavenly light. Sunlight kissed her and she managed to fill her water-ridden lungs with enough air to cough. And she coughed and coughed until she thought her lungs would burst.

"Rod'mus!" She coughed and vomited and coughed more. But her words seemed to go unheard. She forced herself up in hands she did not recognize and gazed down at Rodimus' body. She lay flat, seeing the darkness in his optics and the dark fluid that seeped from his body, coloring the water.

And from his soul, she felt nothing.

1. See TF Episode "Starscreams' Brigade"

2. See TF epi. "Attack of the Autobots"


	4. Upside Out

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 4  
**Upside Out**

**EARTH DATE: OCTOBER, 2006**

**DESTINATION: CYBERTRON**

The Direct Link Library Droid (DLLD) stared at a 10 year-old Daniel Witwicky with no more interest than a scientist leafing through a student's work. His gold, blue and grey form seemed to resemble some crotchety old man who'd spent too many years hidden behind text files and dusty storage chambers, forgetting that there was a life outside the building he worked in. The DLLD even came equipped with a swivel-and-roller mode of locomotion for speed rather than the conventional biped travel.

"Fine, fine." It chirped with a rushed, uninterested voice. "Now what is it you want?"

Daniel didn't take note how rushed and rude the DLLD seemed. He was more interested in the information he sought than some old cranky data file locator's manners.

"We're here for information. Need the date of Ultra Magnus' creation." Wheelie answered instead.

The twerpy droid leered forward, some form of interest piqued in its body language. "What? What's that you say?" It piped. "You want to know when Ultra Magnus was created?"

"That's right." Daniel confirmed. "Can you help us?"

The DLLD rolled down an isle, then two, searching both the files lining the walls and its own memory storage. "Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus. Let me see . . . where would that be?" It swung back and ran past them to the head file system, interlinking into its own storage system. But all that came up on screen was N A. "The information you seek is not available." He informed the boy and the newling Autobot.

But as unhappy as Daniel was, and for all the trouble the boy and his friend had gotten into, even had the storage asteroid been successfully retrieved, they would not have found any data regarding Ultra Magnus' creation.

Those files were closed and labeled forbidden by the Autobot Council of Elders even before Optimus Prime became the leader of the Autobots. At the time of his initiation, Ultra Magnus-MAJOR-GENERAL Ultra Magnus was a closed and forbidden subject even among those most closely involved. He was respected by most all members of the Autobot freedom fighters, feared by the ignorant general Autobot public, hated by the Autobot Council of Elders and despised by the Decepticon High Command.

Magnus was all soldier and never had much use for a politicians prayer for peace. It wasn't that he didn't want peace himself; Magnus hoped for it all his life. But after experiencing so much betrayal and witnessing the bureaucrat's maltreatment of his people, Magnus decided he had no use for diplomats and negotiators.

Ultra Magnus was the administrator's worst nightmare and he once embroiled himself in so much political defiance that the Council of Elders at Iacon had considered erasing his retro-thrusters and sending him**back** to the Decepticons.

And perhaps that was what Optimus Prime liked most about the former Decepticon Major-General. Magnus made decisions based on the situation at hand, not what some list of rules called for. Magnus could follow orders right to the letter and had unswerving loyalty. But . . . he was a soldier through and through. His warriors came first.

However, despite what Optimus Prime believed, Major Ultra Magnus did not see himself as a leader of Autobots. He was good in strategy, a survivor on the battlefield. But not a leader. He just did what was necessary to survive. And at this very moment, 21 October, 2038, Magnus knew if Prime were there to see him in action, the elder Autobot leader would be shaking a finger at him with an I-told-you-so look.

The thought forced Magnus to privately smile.

Rodimus took off for Rusti the moment Central City was attacked. Magnus knew the other Autobots questioned Rodimus' priorities. After all, what's one human compared to a whole city of their own people?

But Magnus knew the situation was far more serious than just one person's love for someone else. He chewed Delta out for her insubordinate attitude then organized the Aerialbots and doubled defenses on all parameters. But no sooner had he sent the order to transform Fort Max than all the alarm klaxons screamed from every direction.

The very first thing that came to Magnus' mind was to evacuate the city; get the troops off Earth and take as many human survivors with them.

Blaster cursed from his corner of the control room and 'pumped up' the volume as someone from the EDC wing shrieked incoherently over the comline. They yammered something about 'diggers' and over sized maggots and that the flooring in level four was bending and melting like so much solder.

Then Cosmos' usual soft, well-tempered voice rapped across the comline at such a rush that no one in the control room could pick up a thing he said until he finished the sentence with 'Quintesson star bombs!'

That was when they heard Cosmos scream.

The tearing of metal by metal teeth.

The spray of fluids as conduits and pipes were mercilessly ripped open.

The whimpers of a dying Autobot followed, sending surges through everyone's systems.

That was when the first com-tower blew and the thundering echoes of its destruction rocked Autobot City. All computer controls flickered.

"Damn." Magnus muttered as all communication links went off-line. "Delta, I need you to set up a fortification at the south-eastern entrance. I'll need time to get the shuttles ready."

Delta shot him a puzzled look. "Commander, we need to stay and fight! This is our city, our world! How can you think of leaving just like that? And in the face of Quintesson attackers?"

Magnus stared hard at her for about three seconds. Do you know everything about the Quintessons, soldier?" He asked dangerously.

"Pretty much." She replied arrogantly. After all, she had served under nearly every campaign in the last twenty-five years.

"Then Prime should step down and make YOU leader of the Autobots! Now get out there and set up the defense grid!"

She stared him down for a moment, her blue optics sparked the same defiance Magnus once gave Alpha Trion.

She departed just the same and the city commander turned to the rest of his staff. "Blaster, while we have power, I want you to transform the city and begin evacuation protocols. Tripcord, you and I will have to go out there and round everyone up. Blaster, try to get us intra-personal communication link-ups."

"I just tried that, Ultra-Dude. Seems we're not just dead in the water, but the Quints 'r jamming us at every frequency. All I can getcha is a line-a-sight laser comm."

Magnus shook his head. "It'll have to do." He frowned resignedly and no sooner did he step out of the room than the city's power went out.

"Damn."

Magnus had only an inkling what was going on outside the control center. The moment he and Tripcord stepped out, their audios and optics met the battle face-on. Chaos erupted like a maelstrom chain of storms straight from the Pit itself. Buildings fell like trees, humans died like bugs and explosions peppered the city like some kind of perverted city-wide celebration.

Arcee drove toward the city commander at a pace he'd never seen her take. They were strafed by a Quintesson craft and Tripcord transformed and attacked their attacker. Arcee skidded before Magnus and transformed, pointing south-east. "The automatic controls are all frozen, Commander!" She reported. "We've lost Cosmos and Skids and-"

Another building fell not far away. The two of them cringed and another ship, a sleek black one, swept too low and Magnus covered Arcee with his body as the craft impacted another building a block away from them. The blast sprayed metal and glass in every direction and a plasma fire erupted into a cloud of harmless gasses. Humans and Autobots alike rushed to the sight to gather the wounded and attempt to contain the blaze.

Magnus sat up, allowing the femme to do the same. "Arcee, we need to transform the city, we must get the defenses on line long enough for the rest of us to escape."

"What about my daughter, Magnus? What about my family?"

"I-I don't know. Rodimus took off after the initial attack in Central City. He took Springer with him and I'm sending others out as back up. That's all I can do right now."

Arcee looked a bit hard. At this point, it was Daniel who was staring at him, not the femme at all. She frowned and leapt away, transforming and speeding like a maniac over rubble and debris.

Magnus stared after her for a long moment. He really had no other ideas. Surprise attacks were always just that: a surprise. No, there should not have been any surprise at all. There came no warnings, no sound from the lunar bases or from the space platform out by star gate 09-A or from Pluto. Nothing from Cybertron, which now orbited the Terran System like a tenth planet.

And not one sound from Mars.

Magnus remained on his knees as the carnage continued to erupt around him. Not far from him, several Autobots confronted a group of the strange dark aliens. Humans, as small and fragile as their bodies were, fought on as valiantly as any well-armed front-line trooper.

The Dinobots and Monsterbots were eliminating the majority of the enemy troops-and most of the buildings around them. But there seemed no end to the attackers. And it wasn't just the strange dark aliens that flayed the city, but the Quints and their Sharkticons.

He had to get them out. Without power or communications, nightfall would be the worst time for fighting. Magnus knew he could not command his people without a communication system. Even by line-of-sight, there was no guarantee he could keep in contact with them during a heavy fight. His first idea seemed to be his best idea: get the Autobots out of the city, maybe off the planet and fight these creatures on better ground.

Magnus found Blurr in the midst of a barrage of Sharkticons. One thing Magnus liked about Sharkticons was their habit of climbing over one another to get to their target, not realizing they made a better target themselves by stacking up like a pile of bottles waiting to be shot. Magnus and Blurr made short work of the barbaric robots by either smashing them (Magnus) or dashing between them so quickly they ran and attacked each other (Burr) Not more than a few minutes passed before twenty-five Sharkticons lay in a pile of used and damaged parts.

"We-make-a-good-team,wouldn't-you-say,UltraMagnus, hu,hu?I-thought-we-did-a-good-job-just-smashing-those-tin-headed,overconfident-nobrainers-to-itty-bitty-pieces-and-that's-something-to-brag-aboutlater-on-when-I-can-get-back-at-Springer-for-teasing-me-about-overdoing-it everytime-I-do-something.-He-owes-one-now."

Magnus stared at Blurr, unable to think of anything to say for a long moment. His language processors decided to take a break and digest Blurr's speech a little more slowly than he would have liked. "Uhhh, okay." He finally returned. "Blurr, I need you to scout everyone. Inform them we are evacuating the city. We're to meet at Moonbase."

"Oh-that's-not-a-problem,not-a-problem-at-all,Ultramagnus-I-don't-have-a-problem-with-that-at-all,not-at-all.You-can-count-on-me,you-know-that."

And the courier left. Magnus was grateful he did not have to deal with Blurr longer than a few minutes each week.

Blurr dashed round the city as it fell bit by bit into pandemonium of destruction. Bombs went off without warning, Autobots and Humans fell from injury or death. Fires erupted in violence wrought with direct control. The sounds at times deafened even those in exo-suits, vibrating the very foundation of the city itself. Smoke heaved through the air with an effort to cover the city in its dark, sometimes rank embrace.

Three times Blurr nearly 'bought it'. He managed to either slip aside at one point, or stop on a dime at another. But he managed to carry the message to as many people as he encountered, even tried to assist those in the fight.

But fighting almost seemed pointless. The dark ships hovered above the city like so many flies waiting for a fresh kill to stop moving.

Blurr returned finding Magnus occupied with two Inoux Destroyer Class. He managed to break the left front leg off one, while keeping the other at bay by firing at its faceless head. The first Inoux, the three-legged attacked first, opening a massive mouth and attempting to yank a piece out of Magnus' metallic hide. But the Major wasn't so slow. He fired at his second opponent first then ducked under the first attacker, jamming his laser rifle into the Inoux's cavernous mouth and overloaded the weapon. He swung back up and landed a partial round house kick to the second Inoux, thereby throwing it completely off balance. The first Inoux blew into a million fragments, throwing Magnus off his balance.

The second Destroyer snapped to its spindly legs and tried to pin Magnus with one of them. Magnus grabbed it in mid air and snapped the tip off.

It screamed and opened its jaws. Magnus fired a missile at it then back flipped and shot the tip of its own leg right into its neck.

No good.

"Ultra-Magnus,I-was-just-rounding-the-cityand-I-noticed-the-whole-area is-being-attacked-by-these-things-"

It leapt for Magnus and pinned him to the ground with its weight alone. Magnus brought his legs up and heaved the creature over his head. He rolled over and transformed when it came right back for him.

"-So-I've-been-telling-every-body-that-we-have-to-meet-at-moon-base-just-like-you-said-and-they've-all-liked-the-idea,except-they'er-only-trying-to-get-to-the-shuttles-right-now."

Magnus fired two missiles at it, hitting it but making not so much as a scratch on its slick black surface. It screeched and landed on him, denting metal and finally taking a chunk out of his shoulder. Magnus growled and used all his strength to transform.

"But-Sideswipe-said-that,there-aren't-enough-shuttles-for-everybody-here-because-there's-more-people than-there-are-shuttles-and-he's-afraid-somebody-will-be-left-behind."

Magnus managed to transform quickly enough to toss the creature off him and he kicked it in the head when it rebounded and came right back. It hit a nearby wall, sinking into a surface that proved more fragile than its exoskeleton. Magnus bent over, clasping his hands together as it again screeched and came at him. He swung, his entire frame slammed right into the alien as though using his whole life force in the strike. The creature flew through the air and again smashed into a wall, actually going through it this time.

"You-don'think-anybody-will-be-left-behind,do-you,Ultra-Magnus,I-mean,that-would-not-be-a-good-thing-because-we'll-"

"Blurr!" Magnus boomed. "I'm trying to survive, here!"

"That does it!" Another voice sounded. From subspace a weapon flung itself out away from Blurr and transformed. Heywire stood indignant. "This is ridiculous! I demand a more meaningful job!" He turned and pointed at Blurr. "And you didn't tell him anything about what Highbrow said!"

"I-forgot." Blurr suddenly seemed calmer, a little more attentive. He turned to Magnus, "Highbrow's-been-on-look-out-for-the-past-four-hours-and-he-said-that-he's-spotted-Springer-heading-this-way-at-high-speeds.Seems-there's-something-wrong.He-didn't-see-Rodimus-Prime-with-him,but-scanners-indicate-"

"Never mind!" Magnus' patience just died. "Get your turbines to the South-East gate. If Rodimus is coming in, he'll head to the one place we can defend the best. If you can, inform him about the situation!"

Without another word, the city commander stomped off, muttering to himself about overworked Autobots and brainless morons who forget to give them vacations.

Heywire and Blurr exchanged looks. "He doesn't seem very happy, Blurr."

"He's-Ultra-Magnus.What's-there-to-be-happy-about?"

Three Destroyer Class snapped and spat their way into shuttle bay four. EDC Captain Matthew Cyrillus clasped on a weight support belt while Autobots Pipes, Cloudraker and Backstreet distracted the creatures, luring them away from the shuttles. Unfortunately, the strange black insect-like things seemed to know what the Autobots were trying to do. One of them leapt clear over Backstreet and the Autobot ducked, covering his head and squeaking in fear. Cloudraker growled in frustration and by two back flips and a hand spring, he transformed into jet mode and shot the creature aiming for the shuttles. The thing hissed at him as it flew aside from the impact of his lasers. But no damage was done.

Cyrillus cursed softly as he rigged the entrance system from one of the shuttles. He opened a nearby compartment and pulled out two light weight rail guns and slipped out. "Move!" He cried to the three Autobots. One by one each of the Transformers spotted him and their reactions came the same way-"what the hell 'r you doing!"

But they obeyed him just the same and the EDC captain fired the two guns right at the Destroyer's neck, killing one instantly. Backstreet veered around the other side of the bay and slipped into one of the other shuttles. He activated it and tried to get the damnedable doors open.

Cyrillus sent another of the Inoux to their maker while Pipes rounded the third shuttle and blasted the western entrance. Humans came pouring in and two other EDC members joined the fight.

The last Inoux jumped right over Cyrillus and attacked the first shuttle on the north side. Backstreet screamed in the cockpit. He tried to activate the shuttle's defense system while the creature began to open the cockpit like a tin can. First went the windshield, shattering like so much crystal. Then the rooftop, peeled like a fruit. Three other EDC members scampered across the bay to save Backstreet's life. But it was over with one fatal bite in the neck and shoulder. Fluid gushed from connectors and tubing. The Inoux lifted the lifeless robot right out of the shuttle and flung the body clear across the room.

Those humans who did not dodge were crushed under its weight. The Destroyer Class proceeded to obliterate the shuttle controls, ignoring all the human's and Autobot's attempts to kill it. Then it leapt straight across and stabbed the roof of Pipe's shuttle.

Ultra Magnus burst in, his tough vehicle mode created a new doorway for the shuttle bay. He transformed and leapt for the creature, yanking it right off the shuttle and fired several times to keep it off balance. Cyrillus managed to pinpoint and blew its head clear off.

Impressed, Magnus turned to the EDC captain.

Cyrillus raised the power on the rail gun and caught the Major staring at him. "Found out they have a vulnerability in the neckline, sir.' He saluted.

"Good job, Captain." Magnus praised. "Let's get the rest of the shuttles operational and head out."

Daniel Witwicky kept thinking fearfully about his family. The communications black out didn't help matters at all and it distracted him from the task ahead. He could feel Arcee silently fume at his distraction, but she wasn't married and she didn't have children and none of her friends were out there in the city, helpless and alone.

He didn't help her as she and four other Autobots tried to erect a shield and defense grid along the South-eastern entrance. Word was that Springer was heading in this direction and Magnus had ordered a defense grid set up. That meant bodies and weapons in one concentrated area.

Daniel had thought about trying to take over Arcee's actions and directing her into Central city to search for his family instead, but he knew there would be no contest in that regard. Arcee was a gentle Autobot who sympathized with others in pain. But she was also fiercely loyal and strong-headed and her people came first. That did interfere with his life more than he liked, but there were times that Arcee had business to attend that she abandoned for him and his life. Their relationship was very complex and sometimes inconvenient.

The sun began to sink behind the Cascade Mountains, its failing rays gracing the damaged city with shadows reflecting death and devastation. Arcee and Stryper managed to activate three pulse cannons along the left side of the gateway while Delta and Nightbeat rewired the bridge.

Three sleek black ships dive-bombed them suddenly, blowing the remains of the bridge and killing Nightbeat. Delta pulled herself out from under her co-worker.

"Arcee!" She called, "try to use one of those cannons!"

"I can't!" The other femme returned. "Not enough power!"

Blurr suddenly arrived and began to shoot at the ships as they dove and veered off like a group of pesky Earth flies.

Arcee snapped her fingers with a moment of inspiration. She disconnected three cogs and a turnpike from a transform panel in the flooring of the city and disconnected the power relays in the cannon's automatic mode. Jury-rigging the cannons and their power source into a manual turn switch she managed to make two cannons operable from a direct control lever.

"Blurr!" She called when all was as ready as she could make it, "Here!"

"What,what?Can't-you-see-we're-supposed-to-be-fighting-the-enemy,not-making-new-and-fancy-equipment-to-impress-someone-like-Perceptor?I-thought-we-were-fighting-someone,not-"

Arcee laid her hand on his lip components. "Wait." She dragged him behind the first of the new weapons and presented him the handle. "Turn this. The platform will turn on its own."

At first Blurr stared at her dubiously. A manual weapon, indeed! But knowing nothing of technology himself, he decided to leave the argument. He turned the handle once and the platform churned, following an alien ship as it vroomed into the city, blowing a building before meeting crossfire with an Autobot. Blurr repeated the turn and a 'little' laser shot out but died quickly from lack of thrust.

Realizing what the femme had built, the Autobot's face plates folded into a wicked smile. Using his incredible speed, he forced the cannon to fire, blowing part of the building around which an alien vessel zoomed.

Another ship flew in and Blurr laughed as he targeted that one too.

Three Destroyer Class Inoux marched their way to the check point. Delta and Simultan fired at them from the other side of the bridge but failed to chase the four-legged aliens away. One alien lifted its head and spewed a stream of liquid fire over the bridge, thereby destroying it. Delta cussed under her vocalizer and turned to Simultan. "I'm going around the other direction and cut them off. Tell Blurr to concentrated firepower here."

Simultan only nodded and transformed into cycle mode. Delta transformed into her jet mode and blasted off, firing at a sneaking Quintesson as she headed for the other checkpoint.

Arcee kept herself occupied by covering Blurr as he shot at everything that didn't look like an Autobot. Skyfire landed beside the Femme and shielded her when a Destroyer Class pounced. The Autobot tore its two front legs off and blasted its head clear off.

"This isn't getting us anywhere!" He shouted when a bomb thundered from the western side of the fortress.

"We're waiting for Rodimus!" Arcee shouted back. A hot wind billowed in from the west and Skyfire covered her with his body. Blurr yelped and ducked as a wave of plasma fire rolled across the city, searing through towers and other structures until it hit Caravan Hill and fused parts of the mountain's soil.

A Quintesson attack fighter swung in and downward toward Skyfire. Blurr saw it coming first and leapt off the platform, taking several pot shots at it. He cried out in frustration until Simultan joined him and they fired three times before actually cracking the fighter's shields.

"Hey guys!" Skyfire shouted from his and Arcee's position, "That's my fight!" He transformed and chased the fighter, sweeping under one fallen building and disappearing into the night-fallen ruins of Fort Max.

Something else zoomed in from the south-eastern gate and Blurr and Simultan swung around just in time to watch Rodimus fly in, tagged by Springer. Not more than fifteen seconds passed and four Inoux ships bolted into the city. Arcee cried out, remembering the bridge was taken out earlier.

But Rodimus flew right over it as effortlessly as jumping a mud puddle.

He zoomed past them and Arcee tried to call out to him, but with all the noise, her little voice did not go far. She turned at the sound of another explosion and heard Simultan scream.

Blurr lay in fragmented pieces and the Inoux aliens whooshed right on by her, hot on Roddi's tail.

Arcee froze, staring at Blurr's scattered remains while the rest of the city burned and fell all about her.

Magnus stood in shuttle bay six from the north by northwestern side-the EDC section of the city. This time there had been no alien/Quintesson intervention and four shuttles successfully lifted off, heading straight for the moon. Tandem had begged the city commander to leave with them but Magnus declined. His job was to stay until every last one of his people made it to safety. Well, that and a certain Autobot leader who should have been in one of those shuttles.

He shook his head and cast his optics to the ground. He had hoped to have heard something from or about Roddi by now. But not so much as a hint had reached this far. The city commander stepped outside just as the last rays of sunlight sank behind the mountains, casting an eerie blue-grey light over the city. Usually this would be a beautiful sight because it wasn't dark enough for the city to switch on its lights, but not light enough to really see everything clearly.

As the city sank further and further into darkness Magnus felt as though Maximus was trying to cover himself from shame. His once tall structures now crumbled from plasma fire. His beautiful spires toppled helplessly to the ground and as things fell or burned, Magnus' heart ached.

Once again something he loved was dying. Something he cherished had been destroyed.

His hand glided across a wall. All for what? He asked himself. It was as if the whole universe had lost its collective sanity at times and no one bothered to administer a little clarity of thought.

All this destruction for what?

Questions like that would drive Optimus mad. He'd come up with something encouraging to say, but in the end, Magnus knew Prime would doubt his own words. Trion on the other hand would say something worse at a moment like this.

The Major's large blue optics dimmed at that moment. Why would the memory of Alpha Trion slip into his head just then? He never had a use for politicians, even when they needed him. Magnus decided a long time ago that negotiation with the enemy would be handled by the barrel-end of a laser rifle.

That's what ticked him off most at this point. Optimus-for whatever reason-tried to actually negotiate with the Quintessons. Granted Optimus was just trying to put a stop to the fighting. But a peace treaty was not the way to handle the Quintessons. The city commander had thought about declaring both Primes unfit for command. And not for the first time. He knew if asked, Optimus would step down without a fight. But the senior Prime would consider it rejection, not as a prelude to the safety of his people. Rodimus would feel very much the same way. But Rodimus would most likely fight the decision. Optimus would disappear-literally. They'd never see or hear from him ever again.

Magnus sighed heavily. So much responsibility! He didn't feel one person in the entire complex had any clue, any idea whatsoever as to what the senior staff went through day to day just to keep the society together; just to keep good terms with Earth; just to keep the Autobots functioning as a community one day to the next.

The Quintessons certainly made everything that much more complex and that wasn't even starting with this attack. Why, after all these years of silence, centuries and entire generations of Autobots, would the Quintessons come back? But here they were, fighting with the Autobots and this time, attacking without provocation. Unless something happened on that space station Optimus hadn't told them about. Now the Major wondered if he would live to see the next sunrise.

Familiar sounds touched Magnus' audios and he turned left just as Kup transformed from vehicle mode. The old warrior approached him in the darkness, optics bright. "Seems they've spotted Rodimus headin' this way. Wanna tell me why he's coming here rather than heading to a shuttle bay?"

Magnus flinched in surprise. "No."

"No?" Kup snarled.

"I mean I don't know."

"Well, we'd better try to run into our fearless leader and get him off this robo-roach infested city before he ends up a permanent resident in the Matrix."

Magnus stared at Kup, puzzled. It was odd behavior for Rodimus to be coming here, the EDC side of the complex. There was only one shuttle bay here; unless he was bringing the girl to the shuttles. But she could just as easily remain with him. His optics dimmed further as he tried to piece the strange behavior together.

"What is it?" Kup asked, setting hand units on hip struts. "Don't you trust him?"

"It's odd behavior, don't you think? Why would he be coming here unless-" the other thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "There's an off-switch somewhere around here and he plans to shut the city down."

Kup's hands fell to his side, his face reflected surprise. "No way! There's nothing rigged to this sector! It's strictly for humans."

"Come on, Kup. Think. If you wanted to place something safe, where would you put it?"

Kup nodded. "In the last place anyone would think about!"

Magnus snapped his fingers.

"The com-center!" The two chorused.

They stepped out the shuttle bay into the darkness of the dying city. Bombs blew in every direction, Autobots chased aliens through the air. Plasma and chemical fires erupted in every direction. Buildings buckled under the impact of body weight or laser fire. Magnus led Kup over several feet of debris and a few bodies, human and Autobot alike. They approached the central square between living quarters, offices and not far away, the com center. But no sooner had the two walked three paces across the courtyard when a flash hit them both and they found themselves elsewhere entirely.

Magnus turned to Kup, astonishment creasing his otherwise detached expression. Kup checked to make sure he himself was all there then in silence they glanced around. They stood in what was a ancient Cybertronian complex. Once it was used as a trade negotiation office by the Quints who contracted robots to buyers. But now the Autobots used it as a courthouse.

"Oh, Prima, mother of Primus to glory." Kup moaned softly. "This can't be happening. Not again."

"This looks familiar." Magnus set a hand on the back of his head. "But I can't seem to recall why."

"No." Kup moaned. "I do. I couldn't forget it. But how did we end up here? What's going on?"

"You there!" A tall Autobot called from the other end of the corridor. The Major and his Chief of Security turned, staring down a long cold hallway lighted with bright neon lights. Doors decked either side of the hallway and a digi-board hung from the right side, flashing messages in LCD.

The Autobot approached them, his long limbs swung out in front of his torso. His face plate protruded and sunk three times across his face. "Which of you is Major Ultra Magnus?"

"That would be me." Magnus answered. "What's this all about?"

"What? You stupid, or something? Come on!"

Magnus and Kup kept their distance as they followed the other robot down the corridor, hung a right and walked down another hall. Kup leaned toward Magnus.

"Magnus, this is Prime's trial. Remember? Before they exiled him!"

If the major had been able to pale, he would have. As it was, he thought he'd just swallowed a pocket of air and already it was disagreeing with him.

They entered the courtroom and Magnus exchanged glances with a very young Optimus Prime. The young Autobot didn't seem moved or disturbed in the least.

Which really was a good thing. Magnus remembered this now; all of it. He was dragged in here as witness to the prosecution concerning Optimus Prime's incorrigible behavior toward the Council. They were going to exile the so-called Leader of the Autobots. And that had already proved a fatal mistake. An enforcer escorted Magnus to the witness stand, the middle of the room and left him there.

Perhaps, Magnus thought, perhaps being here today and knowing what he does now, he could change everything. He could change events as they occurred; he could save the lives of so many hundreds of Autobots condemned to Decepticon labor camps.

The major straightened, eyeing the judge-whatever his name was and the prosecution; Brinox or something like that. Anyway, to Magnus he was just another politician who did not earn his respect. This was the beginning of a very dangerous time for the Autobots. Glancing at the jury-in-stand, Magnus felt his gears grind. As he recalled, the whole thing was a set up. He flinched when the Prosecutor demanded an answer to a question he did not hear. But Magnus knew how to play this little game.

"Optimus Prime has shown nothing but the highest regard for the rogue Autobot army. He came to me when the Elders denied him the choice of training under normal system parameters."

It wasn't what THEY wanted to hear. But from the corner of his optic, Magnus could see Prime nod his head in agreement. If they were to condemn him, it should be for the truth.

"Blasphemy!" One Elder cried. "This is most preposterous! Optimus Prime cannot be anything more than an over-glorified Contender!"

And shouts of agreements/disagreements bounced from one wall to the other. The judge flashed his lights for attention.

When the crowd and their supporters settled, the judge stood. "This is all very interesting, Brinox. But I'm looking for a crime committed, not fanciful insults to the Council of Elders. Granted, I support the Elders as well as the next Autobot. But frankly, we have no laws against military training under off-world masters. And certainly nothing against training under a rebel."

Magnus stood even prouder to hear that term used in his stead. They didn't like him because he would not negotiate with the Decepticons.

Magnus turned to the judge. "Sir, may I be allowed to speak out of turn?"

The judge stared at him for a long moment before taking his seat. "Well, Ultra Magnus, I'm sure that whatever you have to say might have some profound wisdom. Yes, go ahead."

"Sir, I know that the politicians of Iacon have little agreement with Optimus Prime's methods. But I must protest against this ridiculous trial brought about by jealous, contemptuous power-hungry hoodlums."

His phrase was met with boos from the audience but he held up his hand to indicate he wasn't through. They quieted enough for him to continue. "I have spent time with Prime and I can tell you objectively that he has nothing but the best of our people's interests in mind. He believes in freedom. Not under the pretense of a treaty the Decepticons have and will break time and again. But true freedom. He knows the Decepticons are not interested in peace. He is a Prime. Pure and simple."

The judge waved a hand and two enforcers stepped forward to remove Magnus from the stand. They didn't want to hear what he had to say. He struggled.

"No! You must hear me out! The Decepticons will attack and Optimus Prime is the only person capable of motivating the people to fight for themselves! Without him, without his leadership, Iacon will fall under Decepticon domain!"

They dragged him down the isle in front of everyone and Magnus just kept talking, hoping someone might hear him. "They'll come! They'll kill everyone, dammit, you have to start preparing! Prime!" He struggled against his opponents as they tried to drag him out the room. "Prime, don't let them exile you! They'll set you up and kill you! Don't let them exile you!"

Magnus found himself back in Fort Max, nothing changed. The memory sliced into him and he had to sit down for a moment. Kup collapsed behind him, the two sat in silence with bitter memories.

That trial led to many years of grief for the Autobots. Optimus Prime disappeared after that, not saying so much as good-bye to anybody. The council had declared that the so-called new Prime had left Cybertron (as opposed to an exile) after they had proven him a hoax. After that, Crystal City was obliterated. Dramasix, Plethoran, Ondran City, Ty-ion and Numrinon fell one right after another under Decepticon control. Magnus and his people went into hiding and years for which he still could not account they scavenged and lived like starving retro rats. Magnus also remembered how much he hated Optimus for leaving them like that.

And he did, he really hated Prime. That was, until a reliable source informed him that the Council secretly had Prime assassinated.

"It all happened just the same, Lad." Kup's voice came softly. "It didn't matter what you did to stop it."

Magnus frowned more at himself than Kup's words. "Someone once said history is made from bad decisions, not events. Somehow, I believe it."

Kup stood. "We'd better find Rodimus Prime while this city still stands."

They found Rodimus right where they suspected him to be. But he wasn't in one piece entirely and Magnus knew Kup wanted to admonish Rodimus as much as he. But the two learned a long time ago to just keep their mouths shut. Optimus had given them the chewing of their lives over their judgments concerning his and Rodimus' decisions.

It's just that it was so frustrating because at times, the two Primes seemed so . . . stupid. Sometimes their reasoning had no logic to it at all. But Ultra Magnus learned a long time ago that while their reasons for doing things at the moment might seem awkward or at best, stupid, both Primes end up being right in their decisions about ninety-five percent of the time.

Whether or not that was intentional was never the case. Optimus would often doubt his own ideas, that is until later he would be proven right. For example, when Megatron had convinced the citizens of Central City that the Autobots were the real perpetrators of the war, Shawn Burger stepped in and offered a shuttle to send the Autobots off the Earth. Optimus went right along with it. A very bad decision. But several years later, Optimus privately disclosed to Ultra Magnus that at the time, he really didn't understand why he made that decision. Later, he found out that Burger had hired several computer specialists to work on a virus that was capable of wiping Transformer memory cores and extinguish sparks. Had the Autobots stayed on Earth, won the trial, Burger would have had the virus completed and killed them off by sending it through audio transmissions.

What seemed to be a stupid decision at the time proved to be the only decision that saved both Autobots and Decepticons.

It had to be the Matrix, Magnus assumed. Autobot leadership was a position Magnus was grateful he never had to fill. It was an ugly, over-stressed job where gratitude from the masses came in short supply and time off was unheard of. The position certainly changed Optimus over the centuries. Sometimes Magnus wondered how Prime kept his sanity at all.

He left Rodimus with Blaster and Kup, assuming the two were capable of getting him to a shuttle and off Earth. Magnus took off to get other Autobots under way. However, it wasn't until later that morning that he realized his mistake too late.

Magnus watched another pair of shuttles take off. He stepped down the pile of rubble he stood on and felt something stab his chest plate. He caught a breath and for a moment felt everything around him fade. He found himself plunging into darkness and Magnus fought to resurface. Something horrible had just taken place. Something just as familiar happened when Optimus died. An emptiness threatened to overwhelm him and Magnus could easily count the milliseconds it took for him to stay conscious. His optics fell dark. He could feel his own laser core vibrate hard in his chest. He could feel coolant seep out through his joints and fall from his optic sensors. The mighty warrior fell to his knees and how he wanted to crawl away somewhere! Rodimus.

Damn.

Surges zipped up and down his backside and Magnus choked with fluids. He wiped his face plates with dirty hands. He had felt this once before but had never told another soul. A coldness swept over him and he held his head as though to press away unbearable pain. His optics kept leaking and Magnus thought he would smother from the eerie silence that now filled him inside.

"Not the sight I'd ever expect to see of you, Major-General."

Magnus's entire frame stiffened at the softly-spoken phrase. Only three people knew of his true title and none of them had used it in millions of years. The shock pulled him out of the sordid state and he gazed up to meet the living figure of Alpha Trion. Magnus' lip components dropped apart. Trion had been dead for fifty years; given his life to merge with Vector Sigma to give the Aerialbots life-a hero's death, some say. "Y-y-" Magnus couldn't say 'you're dead.' Nothing would voice from his sound modules.

Alpha Trion knelt before him. The robot's placid ageless face stared at him with false pity at first, then with wry amusement. "Well, I should be, according to the time line. But a ripple has upset the balance in the entire galaxy. All things as we know them to be are being affected even as I speak."

Magnus' expression turned from shock to cold dislike. He withdrew from Trion, hoping the gesture would give Trion a hint. "This is perfectly amusing." The city commander snarled. "I end up with you. You're just passing on, right? We're not stuck with you."

Trion set his fists on hip plates and shook his head. "Ultra Magnus, I'm surprised at you! You still haven't forgiven me? After all these centuries? After all this time? Even after all I've done for you and Optimus Prime?"

Magnus stood. His frame shadowed Trion from the early morning sun. "Don't bring Prime into this, Trion. Not if you want to keep your head."

Trion threw his hands up. "Oh, you're always such an impossible person to reason with! How Optimus handles you is beyond me!"

"So when are you leaving again?"

Trion's optics caught the city commander's with a spark of resentment in them. He studied the Autobot warrior then circled him. "Ultra Magnus, forgiveness cleans the soul and allows us to move on in life. I see that you have not forgotten a single thing. Yet life has moved on in spite of you."

"Optimus Prime came back. Seems you and the council of Elders-as the humans say-fucked up."

Trion looked a bit confused for a moment, obviously not understanding the phrase. He shrugged. "Well, you're here, obviously something has gone right in your life. It's a good thing, Magnus. You should be proud of yourself, your achievements. More than ever your people will need you, now that the two Primes have been affected by the virus in the Matrix."

Magnus clapped his hands together and his expression turned to sarcasm. "A pep-talk from Alpha Trion!" He declared. "Am I ever lucky! Oh, how I missed those moments when you would drop your pearls of wisdom and bless us all with your words! Tell me, Trion, are you just trying to save face, or are you buying time?"

Alpha Trion's optics burned into Magnus. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Magnus!" He seethed.

"No, you don't." Magnus returned flatly. "I don't want you to try to weasel your way out of something you had no excuse for. I thought the Autobot Council of Elders exiled traitors. Seems they missed you entirely, Trion. Oh, what's that? They didn't know you were actually a Decepticon?"

That was a last drop. Trion attacked Magnus and knocked the great Autobot off his feet with sheer force of will. Magnus only chucked, rolled over and sat on the older Autobot, his hands clasped round Trion's neck. "An uncomfortable position, wouldn't you say, Trion? I've been there too many times. Believe me, training under the Decepticon war machine has taught me more than morality and good speeches!"

"What happened to you was incidental." Trion growled. Magnus didn't have a tight grip around Trion's throat, but Trion knew it wouldn't take much.

"What happened to me was YOUR FAULT!" Magnus spat. "You expect me to see you for the hero you've built yourself up to be? Propaganda is a good tool for politicians, I'll admit. But you don't have either Prime nor me fooled for a moment. He should have let you die a long time ago!"

Trion laughed. "See? Even Optimus Prime is capable of manipulation!"

Magnus shoved his face plates right in Trion's face. "AT LEAST OPTIMUS PRIME DID NOT SEND HIS PEOPLE TO THE DECEPTICONS AS A MEANS OF KEEPING THE PEACE."

Silence hung thick. Trion studied the city commander, seeming to choose his words carefully. His tone, when spoken, came quiet and slow.

"I did what was necessary. I protected the greater number."

"You threw us to the Pit!" Magnus spat. "And then you used propaganda to make others believe you were a Prime! BUT YOU'RE NOT! YOU NEVER WILL BE!"

"There's no need to be irrational, Ultra Magnus. After all, you survived."

"Because of my principles!" He growled. "Because what I believed in was stronger than the torture my body was taking!" He released Trion and stomped some feet away. "You've always been nothing more than a power-hungry coward who hides behind lies and deceit!"

Trion remained calm and shook a finger at Magnus. "Magnus, I'm not your enemy. And frankly, I'm not here to confront you, anyway. I didn't just come with the time ripple, since I can tell you know that I lied to begin with."

If Magnus had been rabid, he would have been foaming at the mouth. His optics blazed with hatred. But he kept silent.

"I've come to collect Rodimus Prime."

The shock of Trion's statement forced Magnus to remain silent. Now he had nothing to say.

But he didn't need to. The clouds above them rolled and flitted like leaves rustling in a whirlwind. Trion's expression turned from one of arrogant piety to one of astonished horror. He flinched and took a step back. "No! The Matrix!" He searched the skies then gazed at Magnus, the shock in his face did not fade. "Where is Optimus Prime's spark?"

Magnus ignored the sky, having seen too many weird things already. But Trion's question puzzled him. "I don't know what you're talking about." He snarled.

"It's been stolen! Where is it?" Now the older Autobot turned angry. "Where is it, Magnus!" He demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Nnnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhhaaaaaaa!"

It was the one sound Trion made before the two of them were laid flat on their faces. A hot rush of power swept over the city and a thunderous growl called out. It was followed by a cold wind and then all fell silent.

Magnus did not know how long he just laid there face down in the rubble. He didn't want to speak to Trion anymore. His hatred for the ancient ass hole refused to allow him to take a peek and see if the fool was still functional. What was all that slag about Optimus' spark missing? What was Trion trying to pull now?

A whirlwind whipped the area in the cold of morning and distantly Magnus could still hear the fighting going on, but not as loudly as the night before.

What night? Last he remembered it was morning, What happened? Where did Trion come from? What was this business about 'collecting Rodimus'?

The whirlwind increased and a familiar sound touched Magnus' audios. The city commander simply remained where he lay, too depressed to pull himself off the ground.

Springer lighted before Magnus and touched him. "Hey, Mr. City Commander, sir. You okay?"

Magnus slowly pulled himself up, his face swept into a wry little smile. Springer was a sight for weary optics! "Springer!" He greeted. Trion was nowhere to be found. That was a good thing.

He looked back at Springer, puzzled. "Where's Trion?" He asked like a child waking from a dream. All seemed unreal to him. He felt . . . and he saw . . . and he thought and . . .

The Wrecker looked as badly as Magnus felt. Scratches and dents pelted His exostructure and parts of his paneling was missing along his left shoulder. "Magnus, we gotta lift outta here now."

"Rodimus." Magnus answered with a voice so calm it amazed him.

"Let's get to the shuttle and look for him that way. If we don't leave now, the city will sink and take us with him."

"What?"

Springer's whole face twisted into a demand for attention. The sight of it surprised Magnus. He'd never seen Springer so agitated before. "Those worm-things that have been crawling up from under the city have completely destabilized the foundation. Fort Max will simply fall in on itself and take us with it unless we lift off NOW!"

Reluctantly Magnus followed the wrecker a good quarter mile over debris and under two fallen road ways. The whole city, as the humans so graphically put it, was wasted. And the sight of it laid heavily on Magnus' laser core. He and Springer boarded the shuttle**Iron pike **and took off, using scanners and line-of-sight.

Almost an hour passed uselessly by. The city crumbled under them like substandard solder. In silence they kept looking until Brainstorm spotted a flare. They rushed to the area, holding their collective breath.

They found a Quintesson cruiser on the ground, squatting like a graceless cow. Before it two Inoux and three Quints disembarked. Springer aimed and blew the cruiser.

"Bite a hard one, Quintesson slime." He growled.

"Come on!" Magnus called. "Brainstorm, Afterburner, cover us." Magnus jumped, Springer and Arcee followed as the city rocked and tilted a hard right. Magnus attacked two Quints at once, butting their faces together then blew the face of one Quint clear off its body. The Quintesson writhed away, shrieking. The other took off, and Magnus turned to find Springer helping Kup, Arcee lifted Blaster as Brainstorm lowered the shuttle enough for her to push the communications officer on board.

But there was no sign of Rodimus.

Magnus waded through the city's life blood searching as thoroughly and quickly as he could.

No sign. No sign. Then his sensors picked up a human life form not far from where he stood. He cupped his hands several feet under life blood and drew Rusti out. She didn't move.

He turned to Arcee and Springer as the wrecker changed from chopper mode. "Rodimus can't be far from here. Keep searching. Set your scanners for a Gamma wave frequency."

The city rocked again and Magnus almost lost his balance. He reached for the shuttle and laid Rusti in Groove's hands. He himself was about to board the shuttle when the city tilted and he lost his footing, falling into the knee-deep life fluid.

Springer also fell, finding himself landing on Syntax's form. He heard Arcee scream and something weakly grabbed his arm. Springer pulled himself up and hauled Rodimus' injured form with him. He glanced about for Arcee and did not see her. He swiftly scanned Roddi for any signs of life and gagged when he found nothing. He shook Rodimus as though to bring him back to consciousness . . . The problem was, he didn't so much as feel a vibrating laser core from his leader's backside. "Rodimus!"

Arcee suddenly sprang up from the fluid, coughing and gagging, a Destroyer Class Inoux firmly attached to her left shoulder. She fired at it several times with no indication of success. Springer couldn't decide whether to leave her and take Rodimus to the shuttle, or abandon him and help her. He finally decided the latter, drawing his sword. He leapt from the fluid, mounting the creature's back.

It let go of the femme, shrieking in indignation. Springer rode it like a bull as it hissed and bucked, its spindly legs sliced and pierced the water.

And the city heaved again, forcing the floor to take another hard dive. Carcasses and debris rolled and slid under and above the fluid. Magnus caught the shuttle's landing gear with one hand and Rodimus with the other. Arcee screamed again as she slid back under the fluid. Springer also screamed as the Inoux slipped out from under him. The wrecker grasped a pipe for dear life, swiftly shoving his sword into subspace.

"Springer!" Magnus called from the **Iron Pike**. He and Groove managed to pull Rodimus' lifeless form into the shuttle, but Brainstorm was forced to pull the shuttle up as the city's floor heaved and tilted. "Brainstorm!" Magnus shouted above the roar, "Get me closer!"

"I can't!" Came a hasty reply. "The wind velocity is dangerously high. We're going to get hit with an energy storm if I don't get us out of here completely!"

Afterburner cussed horribly next to Brainstorm. He rigged the shuttle's controls and managed to erect a short, bow-sided force field. "Now hold it steady!" He snarled. He leapt to Magnus' side and shot a cable from the shuttle to Arcee's location. He slipped down and grabbed her, then gazed up. "Got it!" He cried.

Magnus pulled him up, relieved they were able to rescue her.

Groove shot the hook at Springer and was about to retrieve him when the Inoux leapt from out of nowhere and attached itself to Springer's back. Springer cried out and all three rescuers gasped as they heard a terrible rent in Springer's armor. Magnus fired at the Inoux, only to watch his efforts bounce harmlessly off. Afterburner spat something in Z'Taxan and jumped on the line. He gave himself enough clearance to slide, swing around it once for velocity then kick the Inoux right off Springer. He caught Springer's arm as he fell.

"You guys 'd better give me a raise for this one!" He shouted back.

Magnus shot another line into what was now a wall. The city had turned completely on its side. He slid down the line and caught Springer as Afterburner's line snapped out from the wall and he swung safely under the shuttle.

"Go!" Magnus shouted. Groove relayed the order and the Brainstorm sped (carefully) away as the city folded and blew and sank into a cavern beneath it. Three then four maggot-like worms dug their way up from the city's belly but they too died in the resulting explosions.

Groove, Pinpointer and Arcana helped Magnus and Afterburner back into the shuttle as Brainstorm flew in a wild-ass pattern.

Magnus sat on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Arcee lay nearby, her optics dark for several long moments. Then she drew a breath and slowly sat up. She met Magnus' optics.

"Status." The city commander asked softly.

"Functioning." Arcee answered. "Is Springer-"

she didn't finish. Her optics saw the wrecker as he lay in a pool of his own fluids. Groove checked him over swiftly and sent her a grim smile. "Nothing a couple of patches and something better than army energon couldn't fix, Ma'am." He informed.

Arcee nodded, then her expression changed and she looked around. "My daughter-"

"We put her under oxygen." Pinpointer reported. "I don't know what her condition is. I'm no doctor. But she's very pale, and not breathing right.'

Magnus forced himself to his feet and entered the cockpit. "What's the situation?" He asked Brainstorm.

"Lousy. We have only three working engines and one gun down. I can't seem to contact anyone around us, either."

"Get us clear of orbit, Brainstorm." Magnus ordered. "And see if you can contact anyone on Lunarbase One. It might be our only hope for a rendezvous."

Miraculously enough, Brainstorm merely nodded. Arcee peeked through the door and wriggled her finger for Magnus' attention. He turned to her then left the cockpit.

"Ultra Magnus, I fear the worst for Rodimus. He isn't responding to anything. Kup is slowly coming to-"

"What about your daughter?"

An explosion popped from the backside of the ship and the whole vessel rocked like a boat. Magnus clung to a nearby consol. "Brainstorm!" He shouted into the interpersonal com, "what happened?"

Silence.

Magnus growled at himself, having forgotten that a communications black out was still in effect, and apparently affected the shuttle, too. He pushed his way to the cockpit.

"Brainstorm!" He repeated as the Headmaster scurried about the controls.

"Yes!" The younger Autobot shouted back. "I'm doing my best, Magnus, but we've just lost an engine and it looks like we're about to see Earth up close and personal! But lemme see if I can reverse the situation by using our forward cannons to give us retro thrusters!"

"Give us retro thrusters!" Magnus boomed. "We should already have them!"

Brainstorm gazed over his shoulder. "Not anymore." He answered quietly and somehow the softness of his voice sent surges down Magnus' backside.

"Damn." The Major attacked the controls and tried to pull them out of a slow descent while the 'genius' tried to rewire the controls. Electricity snapped and popped in his hands and more than once Magnus heard Brainstorm yelp in either surprise or pain from shock.

"You'd better not burn anything out, down there!" The city commander warned.

Too late. The whole navigation control center went out. Magnus clenched his fists and wished he had something to slam a fist into. But he didn't so he gave Brainstorm a dirty look.

"No, no!" Brainstorm chattered. "Don't panic. Everything's under control!"

The panel lit back up and Magnus received three warning lights on the scanner side of the panel. "Damn!"

Afterburner poked his head in through the door of the cockpit, his face set on the edge of panic. "We have an engine down, in case anybody wants to know." He reported. Brainstorm threw him a dirty look.

"Thank you for the news cast!" Magnus snarled. He tried everything he could to pull them out of the dive. But the most he could do was keep them from spinning.

Brainstorm yelped again when another shock struck him.

Afterburner frowned and left the cockpit, stripping his weaponry as he aimed for the power coils on the starboard side of the shuttle. Arcee watched him as she checked on Blaster

"Afterburner," she called. "Where are you going?"

"To play hero." Came the answer.

The femme headmaster glanced at Groove who connected Blaster to a slow energon feed and programmed a reconstruction file for his repair systems. Seeing that he really didn't need her, she slipped away, following the Technobot.

"Do you need help?"

Blaam! And the ship rocked. The two Autobots slammed into a nearby partition.

"Hey!" Magnus called from the front, "We could use a gunner up here!"

Arcee gave Afterburner one final glance and dashed away. Afterburner frowned and searched for the damaged engine's connective coils. Another blast hit the ship and Afterburner swore softly. He disconnected several damaged boards and ripped out burned and sizzling wires. He stuck his head into the coil funnel of the engine and found the real problem: a section of relays had been burned to a crisp. He unlocked and pulled out the whole section, unhitching the tunnel like a 3-D jigsaw puzzle. The ship rocked a little more softly this time and several whines and blurbs emanated from the shuttles' own belly, indicating someone managed to get the front force field up again and someone else was using primary weapons.

But that won't last unless they could get altitude and leave orbit. Afterburner stripped his upper-torso armor, exposing his physical systems, cables and personal connectors. He worked as quickly and accurately as possible. One wrong connection and the ship would be blown straight into next week. In a matter of minutes, he became more aware of the ship and all its problems than anyone else on the bridge. A faulty line drive in the navigation controls prevented the ship from driving up, but the loss of one engine kept it from speeding any faster than it was. Afterburner took one deep breath and sent his own electric power and fluids into the ship, activating the damaged engine and erecting the shields to fifty percent.

Up front, Arcee grabbed the laser cannon controls and shot at a Quintesson cruiser as it zipped around them, taking as many pot shots as it could between maneuvers.

"We have power!" Brainstorm declared. "I think we can hit orbit, Magnus!"

Wordlessly, the city commander directed the shuttle straight up, twisting so as to confuse their tailgater. But their follower wasn't that easy to shake. He hit them time and time again, causing the shields to collapse like a deflated balloon.

"We've lost shields!" Arcee reported. "What'll we do?"

"I'm open for suggestions!" Magnus managed to get them out of Earth's orbit and into space, dodging one damaged satellite right after another. He played 'musical chairs' with one or two to try to shake their attacker, but was unsuccessful. The Quints slammed full-powered lasers on them now, determined to write their epitaphs among the debris around Earth's orbit.

Arcee gasped as an idea hit her. She inverted all their laser frequencies and programmed the ship's lighting to polarize the windows. Her companions stared at her.

"What are you doing?" Brainstorm asked when the windshield turned dark.

"You'll see." She whispered.

Magnus ignored them, concentrating solely on the next satellite, hoping to swing around it in a loop and attack the Quint from behind as it passed under. But the Quint went around the other way, coming in for a head-on collision. It fired repeatedly and all three Autobots instinctively flinched. But nothing happened. The Quintesson ship passed right over them, coming a little too close for comfort. Magnus dove the ship to a hard right, again slipping under another damaged satellite.

Arcee undid her work then turned to Magnus. "All I need is one clear shot, Magnus."

The city commander studied her a moment and before he could say yes or no, the scanners bleeped and all three spotted their attacker as it tried to collide with them again. The shuttle's power died just for a split second before forward cannons fired and blew both the satellite in front of them and the Quintesson ship with it.

Light resulting from the explosion froze their optics momentarily, but when all cleared, a nice little path was made for the shuttle right to the moon.

"Waaahoooo!" Brainstorm shouted triumphant.

"Good work, Arcee!" Magnus praised.

"Marry me, Arcee!" Brainstorm pleaded.

"Not in your life cycle!" The femme snapped.

Rusti awoke laying on a 'flat' designed for Head/Target masters. Its unkind cold surface hurt her bruised and sore body. An oxygen mask covered her face and wires and an IV unit ran in and out of her body. All she could think of was how nice it would be to raid a refrigerator and find out what Optimus was up to. But she wasn't where she should have been. Her senses told her she was in a med bay of some sort somewhere else in the city. She most likely had pulled some stupid stunt and was in med bay and sooner or later her father/Arcee would come looking for her, giving her that parental once-over followed by a stern lecture. Then Optimus would come in, give her the same once-over and silently shake his head then Roddi would peak in, most likely laugh and move on.

The girl rolled her eyes. The worst of it would come from her mom who wouldn't let her live it down for several weeks.

Pinpointer suddenly appeared in her line of sight and she startled. "Easy, Lassie." He cooed. "We'd about lost you. Been sleeping a while. Dreaming okay?"

At first she didn't understand about the dreams but it occurred to her he was really asking about Rodimus. She opened her mouth to speak, but realized the oxygen mask prevented her from being heard. She shrugged and Pinpointer removed the mask.

"Better?" He softly asked. "Seems your little suit isn't working like it should."

Her hand touched the breastplate covering her chest. "I-" no sound. She cleared her throat. "I-I got hit." Her voice came only as a whisper. She covered her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise.

Pinpointer smiled warmly. "Shock, Lassie." He sat beside her on the flat, his eyes fell away from her for a moment. "Rodimus . . . uh, can, can you sense anything with Prime?"

She looked puzzled, wondering why he would ask such a question. Was something wrong? There had to be if someone was asking her. Yeah! As if she were the Primes' sound board or something! Her eyes diverted away a moment and she tried to pick up Sounds, background thoughts or sensations. But there came nothing.

Nothing?

She turned to him, puzzled. She tried again and still all she could get was a strange silence she hadn't heard in years she could scarcely remember. Always there would be something there, some sort of 'checking' between she and the two leaders, but now neither of them sent her anything back. Neither of them picked up her simple Tuggings.

What was wrong? She settled her mind down deep within herself, searching for that ground, that valley of thought that was common to the three of them. But all she could See was a land tattered by pain, grief and fear. A cold darkness hovered like thick grey fog.

The Matrix acknowledged what was happening and a horrible sense of helplessness slapped Rusti so hard that she began to cry.

Pinpointer gently shook her back to the real world, but that did nothing to ease her weak little sobs. She made no sound in her weakened condition. Her tears fell over her ears into her wet hair.

"Lassie," Pinpointer called. "What? Are they dead? What's wrong?"

She struggled to get her voice to sound out but it would not. She gasped for breath and started coughing and she coughed until it became violent and someone else rushed into the room, shouted at Pinpointer and pulled the girl to a sitting position. Rusti coughed up blue fluid, then red and all she remembered from there was a needle prick, someone shouting at her to stay awake and a hot bolt of electricity against her back.

She was breathing again, but exhaustion took over and they replaced the oxygen mask.

Pinpointer reported to Ultra Magnus. Arcee/Daniel stood nearby, her arms crossed.

"Well?" Magnus ordered.

"Uh, she's still not well enough to talk, I'm afraid, Commander. The girl is quite upset yet and when we tried to get her to say something . . . well, we had to put her back under."

Arcee shifted her position, "Why won't she talk?"

Pinpointer glanced away. "She's under a great deal of duress. My guess is she took a direct hit from one of Them, knocked the suit off-line. She's also under strain from whatever's affecting Prime. Maybe. I can't be exactly sure. I just know that she'd almost drowned and that may have a hand in her exasperated state. She's a tough kid. I'll give her that much. Anyone else should've keeled over and died. A very remarkable girl, really."

Magnus frowned and crossed his arms. "Inform me the moment she recovers. Keep working with her. If we can reach her, we might be able to help Rodimus."

Arcee stared at Magnus for a moment. A part of her was amazed at the idea. The other part was disgusted that Magnus would even suggest 'his' daughter was that strongly connected to the Autobot leader. The first part of her thought it was wonderful that someone was so close to the two Primes. The other part of him was infuriated to think that 'his' daughter was contaminated by aliens.

Magnus returned to the bridge and slipped into the navigation seat. Brainstorm was hacking away at the control panel grunting and growling at the consol.

"Well, what's the news?" The Major asked.

"Uurrgghh." Brainstorm answered.

"What's that, soldier?" He asked more directly.

"It's the ship, sir. The controls keep trying to freeze up on me. I don't know who did what, but they managed to buy us just a little bit of time. The shuttle must've taken a really bad blow before we got to her." He suddenly realized what he said and gazed at Magnus directly. "I mean, I know we were hit, that's why the shuttle's acting up, right? But I mean, whomever affected repairs must have had to cross-wire navigation and locking systems . . ." He realized Magnus was staring at him not because he was interested in what he had to say, but because Magnus was confused. Brainstorm smiled lightly. "Never mind, Commander. We'll make it to Lunarbase, but after that the ship won't fly again."

"It's better than going down with the city." Magnus replied.

A half hour later, they made it to Lunarbase. Brainstorm was never so grateful to have the weapons working as well as they were. He reduced the laser frequencies and used them to act as the retro thrusters to slow them down for landing. But to land entirely, the Headmaster actually had to cut power. It wasn't a graceful and pretty landing, but they walked away.

Magnus peeled out of the cockpit and counted heads the moment he stepped into the next room. One Autobot was missing. "Where's Afterburner?"

"Last I saw him he was heading for the damaged area." Arcee reported. She leapt over Pinpointer and headed in that direction, followed closely by Magnus. "Afterburner?" She called. "We've landed."

The two peered into the dim lighting of what was left of that section of the ship. Magnus rigged the lights with the main power panel from the cockpit. The entire area looked as though someone were playing house or military and forgot to put their toys away. Bits and pieces, or entire control blocks had been pulled out. Wiring cris-crossed like a spider's web as though every part of the ship was used to cross-wire with another. Most of the components were burned out, fried like overdone flesh. And in the middle of it all stood what was left of Afterburner. He had connected himself to the ship. His optics were burned out. His face charred almost beyond recognition. His back section smoldered. Those parts of him that weren't fried by the process, had turned dark and grey with death. His mouth hung open as though he wanted to scream and could not. Arcee turned and swiftly walked away, unable to remain.

Magnus studied the figure for a moment longer. Afterburner had been a pain in the thrusters from time to time. But he was still a Technobot. And now, Computron was no more. Magnus stood at attention for another moment longer then respectfully and sternly saluted the corpse. "Well done, soldier." He mumbled quietly.

Groove peeked round the corner, peering at Magnus between fingers. "Commander!" He called. "We got incoming. Looks like ours, Sir."

Magnus tore himself away and accompanied the smaller Autobot down the plank. Before them two ships landed several yards off, followed by two more. One ship's landing gear malfunctioned and the ship simply fell hard. Several Autobots disembarked from the third ship. They carried scanners and tools and weapons and disbursed in a timely and organized manner. Magnus watched with admiration as they split up into pairs and began to take notes on the condition of the other ships. Among them emerged Jazz, City Commander from Fort Sonix in Australia.

"Hey, Mags!" Jazz greeted as casually as ever. "Heh, I see you've come out of this alive. Where's the Rod-Man?"

"Injured and in critical condition." Magnus answered solemnly. Is that all the people that survived?"

"I was gonna ask the same o' you, Man!"

"No. I-I don't know where everyone is at the moment. We'd almost didn't make it."

A short femme came up bearing three digipads. She handed one to Jazz and had him sign the other two. Jazz glanced over the one and frowned. "Seems we gotta slavery problem on our hands." He gazed at Magnus with his visor, his expression a bit cold and detached. "How many o' your people didja see git carried off?"

Magnus looked a bit surprised. "None. What are you talking about?"

"Say what? You mean no big black robo-boogy monsters came swooping down 'nd just carried people off the ground?"

Magnus just stared. "No. But a part of Fortress Maximus sunk. I don't think we'll ever be able to recover him."

Jazz fell quiet, simply gazing at Magnus then his optics fell to the dirty ground. "I-hey, sorry, Man. I-I'll send a search party out for the rest of your buds. Looks like yer ship is headin' fer shuttle heaven. Wanna ride?"

It was the tiniest of touches. The softest of whispers. But he picked up on it.

_Rodimus, the whole planet is gonna blow! Rodimus! Leave it! There's nothing you can do! Rodimus! Rodimus!_

He failed to find them a new home. He failed to save Cybertron. The Matrix was all that remained of a once great people. Then it too burned out.

Sentinel. Caprinicus. Alpha. Optimus. Himself. Not one of them knew what the future held. Not one of them knew how the future would reveal itself in seven thousand tons of metal alloys and a soul of pure greed. But in six days it was over. Unicron had devoured Cybertron. The Matrix went dark.

And only five Decepticons and thirteen half-starved Autobots survived.

And the tiniest of touches, the softest of whispers called his name and he responded by traveling back to another plane of reality. He came back, responding to the voice of a little girl.

His optics activated and met the ceiling of a small dark room. A shape moved beside him and he stretched with his sensors.

Ultra Magnus.

Rodimus smiled inside. He hurt from topside to bottom.

"Rodimus?" Magnus called softly.

"Hey, Mags." Rodimus answered carefully. "Sorry, I really can't talk at the moment. It hurts to live."

"But you're talking. It means you're going to be okay." Magnus almost sounded excited. To his commander, it sounded like music. But he hurt too much to even smile outwardly.

Rodimus had to call up some measure of strength from someplace just to get a whiff of news. "How's things . . . Magnus?" He whispered.

The city commander scowled and sighed tiredly. "Bad. We barely escaped with you. We've lost Afterburner and our own shuttle. I don't know how many of our forces were wiped out in the battle. Jazz reports he's had people kidnapped by the aliens. But he's brought four shuttles with him and they're rounding our people from Maximus right now."

Rodimus was very quiet for a long moment. Ultra Magnus figured it best to leave Rodimus alone to rest for now and try to talk to him later. He almost stood and left when the Autobot leader stirred. "Sorry . . . Mags. Looks . . . you're gonna hafta to sit . . . this one for me." He forced his optics on and tried to lay a hand on his friend, but his hand slipped and fell over his thorax.

Cold seized Magnus' chest and he tried to swallow his fear. "You-we almost lost you, Rodimus. I thought . . . I didn't want to . . . erm . . ."

"'s okay, Mags." Rodimus' optics faded again. "Look-it. Uhm, think a good place f' us isss Centaruss . . . Mags."

Magnus nodded. "Centarus. We can jump there from Gate 09-A. But, I thought they didn't like visitors."

Rodimus did not answer. His dark optics did not stir. Magnus sighed heavily. It was all up to he and Jazz now. He studied Rodimus' dead-still form on the flat. Roddi had lost some of his color and he felt cold to the touch. Groove tried to set a patch over the wound in his thorax where the vibro-spear had ripped though circuitry and components. It would be days before Rodimus would be able to do anything at all.

Magnus stood and suddenly had a feeling of deja vu. He had been here, right here, not just once, but once and once again.

What? But how could that be? Twice? No way! A feeling of dread crept over him and he thought he knew what was to happen next; a femme in black and blue-violet would step in and inquire about Rodimus' condition.

Magnus knew what he was going to have to tell her that Rodimus' time was up and it would be any moment now and she would lose him. And the femme would rush to Roddi's side and weep, begging him not to leave her, that he had so many things to tell her about his world . . .

But it didn't happen.

The damaged shuttle rocked softly. The city commander dashed out and called his weapon from subspace as two alien ships streaked right for him.

Springer suddenly leapt beside him, nearly startling the Major. "Sorry, there, Mags." The Wrecker nearly sang. "Seems we're earning our pay today!"

"I thought . . ." Magnus couldn't finish his line before two Destroyer Class Inoux landed from the ships. They moved in a spider-like gait and fired at the ship in a constant barrage.

"We have to get our wounded out of here!" Magnus ran back into the shuttle, Springer shadowed his steps. The wrecker dashed from room to room in the shuttle and found Pinpointer and Rusti in a small sealed room. Pinpointer had just donned on his helmet when Springer entered.

"We gotta boogy." Springer pointed outside. Guess they can't get enough of our charm."

"We really shouldn't move her." Pinpointer answered calmly.

"Don't have much choice."

Arcee entered, looking worn and frightened. "I talked with Jazz and he said we'll be sharing shuttles with him. We have to move now because there are no shields on the _Iron Pike_."

The ship softly rocked under their feet and Arcana moved swiftly to exchange Rusti's oxygen to a portable unit. Pinpointer called his weapon from subspace while the two Autobots concerned themselves with Rodimus.

Brainstorm and a worn-out Kup and Blaster joined them as back up and the five and their wounded left the shuttle and tried to make a run for it as one Destroyer Class stamped its way toward the craft. Pinpointer who ran behind Arcana dared a glance back to the shuttle and watched as the Inoux tore through it as though it were made of paper. The silence of space gave the whole scene an eerie dream-like affect. An explosion which should have been heard only presented a pretty light show. And the Inoux lifted its head and opened a horrifying mouth full of long vertical razor teeth. If the creature screamed, Pinpointer heard no sound. The creature crunched into the **Iron Pike** and once again, no sound came.

"Here!" Shouted a voice over the interpersonal comlines. Pinpointer turned back and saw a femme waving them down. The shuttle she stood before still had its shields up. Springer and Brainstorm arrived first shadowed by a silent Kup and Blaster. Arcee followed, tailed by the two humanoids.

A light flashed behind them and Arcana glanced over his shoulder. An Inoux ship just tried to fire on them without success. Rusti stirred in his arms and he held her closer. "There now, Lass." He called softly through the flexi-metal face of his helmet. "Don'tcha move too much."

Delta landed hard next to Magnus and the two fired at the first of the two Destroyer class while high above two Autobots busied with the alien ships. Magnus finally ended their fight with a straight weapon-draining blow to the creature's neck. The alien opened its mouth and blew apart. The silence of it sent surges down the Major's back. There had been so much noise the last two days' fighting that hearing no battle sounds at all seemed very out of place.

A powerful burst of light radiated from above and the two Autobots gazed upward and found one of the alien ships had been blown to pieces. Better yet, three Autobot shuttles were about to land. The lead shuttle had the British flag painted on the side and relief rushed through the Major as though he had fallen in water.

"It's Titanium!" He said to Delta.

She did not answer, but put her weapon away and watched as the three shuttles landed. Not far away two other shuttles landed and from those the Dinobots disembarked. Those were Magnus' own people.

It lighted next to Magnus' ship. The shuttle plank dropped and out pranced Targetmasters Checker, Eclipse and Tectonic, from England. Behind them strode Mirror and Spellbound, the twins. Physix, a heavy-artillery tank, emerged in a slow powerful stride and behind him came Titanium, City Commander of Fortress Sagittarius. Titanium strolled down the plank in slow careful steps. He was about as heavy as Physix and a little taller than Magnus himself.

The English Autobot City Commander was well known for his meticulous attention to detail. It was his plans that built Fortress Sagittarius, Zenith and Horizon. Titanium had the reputation of 'city killer'. A title he earned after single-handedly obliterating a Decepticon fortress on Cybertron long before the New Golden Age.

The tall triple-changer City Commander approached Magnus. "We have three more incoming. Two damaged shuttles carrying a crew of twenty-five each." he reported. "We brought some medical equipment. Not much, 'fraid, Commander."

"Have you heard anything from New York?" Magnus failed to suppress the desperation in his voice.

"Lost communications." Titanium eyed the Autobot commander with respect. "We-I-had a link with Tracks. He was giving me a sorry story 'bout his bloody paint job and then nothing. Ordered Mirror over there ta reestablish the comm, but nothing. That's when we gotten the sonic sounds."

"Sonic sounds?" Delta repeated.

Titanium tilted his chin down, his optics hard on her, "The kind that you get when a phase bomb goes off." Titanium waited for an answer but Magnus remained silent until Jazz joined them.

"Heya there, Tite!"

Titanium gave him a dry smile. "Have ya' heard from Prime?"

"No. Nothing from Mars at all. We fear Mars is in as bad if not worse a predicament. Rodimus is badly injured and we're down by one shuttle. I don't know how many of us managed to escape. We should take count of what assets we have; weapons, energon."

Titanium nodded. "It seems our best bet is getting outside the solar system."

As he spoke, three, four and five ships came into view.

"Yo, Magnus!" Blaster happily called from atop another shuttle, "It's Convoy from Fort Horizon." Blaster paused as he listened and gave a chuckle. "She wants ta' know if it's safe ta' land."

Magnus shook his head. "Tell her to land just behind us, Blaster. If she has wounded . . . " Magnus glanced at Titanium. " . . .tell her to send them to the other shuttle for repairs."

Titanium glanced from Jazz to Magnus and back. "You know, if we're to work together, we must organize our present structures. Magnus, I see you have the manpower, but Convoy has the firepower and Gryphon, when she gets here, has the force field net they recently installed in their ships. We may not be a great army, but carefully planned, we'd have a better chance against the Quints and their allies."

"Sounds good to me." Jazz perked. "But uhh . . . jes' how d' you plan ta move this whole fleet? Some communications r' still down."

Jazz never got his answer. Mirror dashed up: "Sir, we got incoming and it doesn't look pretty!"

**DESTINATION: FORTRESS MAXIMUS, EARTH**

**TIME: AUTUMN, 2030**

"Can you, Resonna Witwicky, hold your own life for thirty seconds?" The question came from Cordovos, an ambassador from the Greater Quintesson Continuum. He stood not much taller than she and was allowed to ask her a simple question-as long as Rodimus was allowed to be in the same room. The four-armed ambassador stared at her with lizard like eyes and an up turned nose. He acted as stuffy as he looked, more so, actually than the girl's school principal.

_The guy's a prig._ Rodimus sent to her. Rusti smiled at the silent crass remark.

"I don't know." She replied in equally stuffy tones. "Can you yank yourself through a keyhole?"

The ambassador glared at her and harumphed. "Incorrigible child." He turned to leave.

"Oversized pinhead." She shot right back.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "Maladjusted flesh creature."

"Circuit glitch mouse impregnated with rust mites."

Rodimus snorted, trying not to laugh. "Rusti, that's a little below the pipes there, girl." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. I should have warned you about our little ten year-old terror. She picks up on things rather quickly-"

"Seems to me Rodimus Prime she's a bit out of hand!" Cordovos spat.

Rusti suddenly realized she had played the 'grown up' game all wrong. She wasn't supposed to insult the ambassador, just answer his question. He wanted to know if she could hold her own life for thirty seconds. What the hell did that mean?

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

In thirty seconds she kissed something. She touched a power indescribable in human terms. Ashamed, she sputtered into tears. Oh, but she would embrace that! She would hold it and keep it always in her heart!

Hold her own life? Maybe she was over-thinking the question. Her own life.

But it wasn't . . . hers . . .was it . . .?

BLINK.

The Matrix corridor stood cold and dark. A few lights gave her enough indication as to where the walls were, but not much else. She'd been here before, she felt it. She touched a wall. Cold hard metal. But something inside her said it was more than metal. It was alive. Yes, alive, feeling, breathing . . . thinking. What she stood in was a living . . . thing. She moved forward in the dark hall, not really afraid. She didn't know why she wasn't afraid, she just wasn't. The walls around her began to whisper in a language she really couldn't quite grasp. Not that she hadn't heard it before; Rusti was of the few humans who could speak Autobot. Part of the wall protruded, an extension like a skeleton arm stretched out. Whirrs and clicks filled the silence like a mechanical song.

Well, mechanical and not. She approached and dared a touch, just enough to feel its surface. It wasn't Earth metal; but a network of braided elements entwined with sensors and receptors. Nor was it really that cold to the touch; not much colder than human skin on a breezy spring afternoon. The arm opened, panels slid up and back revealing a visor optical sensor; the type Jazz had.

It stared at her in the fashion of study. Nothing really menacing; but a stare that would unnerve most people because now and again the light glaring from the optic would dim and Rusti could just hear the tiniest of sounds as the optic sensor adjusted its focus, perhaps to see her at a closer view.

"My name is Rusti." She told it, though the girl didn't know why. Beside her the wall stretched out into a face; the flex-metal pressed against itself as though imprisoned and tried to break free. The face did look a little familiar, but the girl could not recollect from where.

Rusti opened her eyes. Soft neon lights greeted her. A cold hard surface pushed itself against her sore body and she wondered why they laid her on a flat instead of a bed.

The dummies! She wasn't made of metal! What was wrong with them! No. Wait. This wasn't the infirmary. The light wasn't right for Dr. Cynyr's office, either. She had no idea where she was or how she got here. And Rusti felt as though someone had smeared her too thinly over a hot sidewalk. She gazed right and spotted three other humans; one sitting up, the other two lying down, one of which was Dr. Cynyr.

Captain Cyrillus appeared and placed a flat black piece of rubber across Rusti's forehead. At first the girl thought about going back to sleep but then she suddenly remembered something she'd been dying to ask for a long time. Weakly she lifted her right arm but found it too painful. Funny, she didn't think she broke it. She tried her left arm with better success. She managed to peel off her oxygen mask while Cyrillus had his back turned. She drew in cold metallic air and the shock of it made her lungs hurt. She wanted to ask the whole sentence and get as much information as possible. But all that came from her little squeaky voice was "Roddi?"

Cyrillus swung around in surprise and his face lit up with relief. "Well! So good of you to join us, Miss Witwicky!" He nearly sang. "You had us concerned. Rodimus? Uhhhmm, we think he'll live. But he's banged up pretty badly. Many of us are."

She could only nod by blinking slowly. "Opti . . . mus?"

Cyrillus pursed his lips, his eyes diverting from her for a moment; he gave it all away in his expression. "We don't know. There's still no word from Mars, Lass."

Tears welled up inside her. She knew it. Something had gone horribly wrong. Horribly wrong.

Before the Autobots could scramble for action, the _Automation_ went up in a silent explosion. The Autobots dashed in seventeen different directions, trying desperately to fortify their position. But the enemy kept coming in like a well-choreographed dance. First the fliers swung in, dropped a string of bombs then the Destroyers approached with the soundless stomping of their pencil-pointed legs.

Inside the Runka, Rusti could feel the vibrations as the shuttle rocked and shuddered from nearby impacts and all attempted attacks on the Runka bounced harmlessly off the ship's shields. It was so noisy! Gawd, it was noisy!

Although, in reality, Rusti heard nothing at all. But she sensed and felt everything.

She opened her eyes, deciding she simply could not sleep under those conditions, and tried to sit up. The oxygen mask kept her from moving further than four inches off the flat. Frustrated, she tried to pry it off, only to find a pair of stupid nose tubes connected to her insides. She inwardly growled as the shuttled softly rocked again, causing her to momentarily loose her balance. She forced herself up, having to bend way over, and proceeded to pull the oxygen mask off. It refused and she realized it came with the nose tubes. She undid the lock collar around her head and tried to pull the tubes out. They wouldn't come without pain.

Dammit, they were coming out whether they wanted to or not! Nothing belonged in her body! She tried again and gagged. She could feel the damn things nestling in the back of her throat. Rusti pulled herself up on her knees on the flat for better leverage and silently counted to three and yanked.

The tubes scratched the back of her throat and she gagged as she felt the damn things snake through her upper sinus cavity and out her nose. She gagged and finally vomited a vile mix of blue fluid and blood. She coughed and up came more of the same nasty combination. Reaching for a nearby towel, she wiped herself off and tried to clean up the mess as best she could.

It was just nasty.

She helped herself to a little water and tried to take several deep breaths to control her shaking body. While she tried to get her bearings, Rusti glanced at her surroundings. She still had the exo-suit on-now it served as her only means of clothing. There were now five other people on flats and two on the floor. Three of them were Head/Targetmasters. The rest were EDC members.

The shuttle rocked again and Rusti laid her hand over her chest as though to keep her heart from leaving her body. She still could not stop shaking. She found the door and pressed an ear to it, to see if the doctors, or whomever else was playing doctor, had set a guard.

No sound. She waved a hand in front of the panel and the door opened into an empty main section of the shuttle. No one at the helm, either. Outside, light flashed and died and peering through the windshield, Rusti spotted the Dinobots fighting two Inoux Destroyer Class.

Where was Roddi in all this? Was he on the same shuttle as she? She folded her rubbery arms and padded about the main section for a moment before deciding they set him elsewhere on the shuttle. Oh, he was here, to be certain. She could sense him anywhere. Rusti glanced at the shuttle entrance, relieved to find the doors closed and locked. She glanced left and padded to the storage room.

Something hard grabbed her left arm and the girl opened her mouth to scream. Nothing except a weak 'oww!' came from her sore throat. She turned and faced Pinpointer in his suit and helmet. He shook his head and index finger at the same time.

"You should be lying down, young lady. Not walking about."

She looked a little cross and pulled away from him. "Want to see Roddi." She whined. Her voice cracked, but she refused to be embarrassed by it.

"You are in no condition-"

The bay door opened, interrupting Pinpointer. Arcee, Kup, Diox and Brainstorm rushed in.

"Where's Jazz?" Arcee called as she did a brief check on the weapons panel.

"Riding with Tite, I guess. He didn't want to travel with a bunch of old fogies like Magnus." Springer leapt into the navigation chair and Brainstorm calmly sat at helm. Ultra Magnus came stomping in a moment later and Rusti quickly disappeared into the storage area. She slid the door closed behind her as Magnus ordered lift off. She found a snug spot between an anti-grav flat and a corner. She paid no attention to the weapons and energon supplies around her. Nor did she notice the life support system lining in and out of the floating flatbed.

The shuttle shuddered around her and the girl pulled her body close, knowing she should be sitting in a chair with safety harnesses on. She really didn't care. The ship roared and in a moment, G-forces pinned her tightly to the wall. She grasped the power crevices between panels and walls and held on for dear life as the ship shot into space. A moment later, the main thrusters cut off and the shuttle advanced under regular power. Rusti stood, feeling tired, dirty and very hungry. Yanking the tubes out had scratched her throat and she wondered if she could eat anything solid, anyway.

Maybe there was nothing edible for humans on board.

Rusti finally took count of the energon and weapons stock. Several bins of rifle e-clips and batteries were accompanied by six large plasma rocket launchers and eight air-to-air missiles.

A strong soft luminance drove out the storage room's little light and the girl looked to the flatbed upon which Rodimus lay. A soft glowing shape hovered above him and quiet hues of blues, purples and greens sparked now and again in the energy field.

It looked at her without a face and Rusti read sadness there. She shared its grief and turned away, silently crying. All the children were in danger and helplessness filled her to the point of despair. A part of her was dying and . . . and she could not stop it.

Rusti stood before the flatbed and stared at the Matrix energy-being floating ethereal above Rodimus. _There has to be strength somewhere._ she projected. _Even if it's raw energy._

Nothing but the sadness answered her. The Matrix was too weak to save Rodimus' life.

The door opened and Magnus and Arcee stepped in. Arcee pointed a scanner at Rodimus and read the results. She solemnly shook her head. "Not good, Magnus. He has three main lines damaged and . . . Resonna, what are you doing here, young lady?"

It hurt to talk and shying away was the wrong thing to do. Pinpointer stomped in and took her hand again. Rusti slipped out of his grip and received an ugly admonishing expression from him.

"I want to stay with Roddi. Something's wrong." Well, that's what she tried to say. What actually came out was: "Want stay Roddi. Wrong."

Arcee set her fists on her hip plates and a parental look of displeasure crossed her metal face. It was Daniel who scowled, actually. The moment distracted her from seeing Magnus kindly kneel beside her.

"You can't help him, Rusti." The city commander said softly. "You're better off just getting rest."

Rusti flinched when the light of the Matrix settled over Ultra Magnus. She backed up against the wall and watched in awe as the Matrix gleaned a small blue orb from Magnus' body.

"What?" Magnus asked. "What's wrong?"

She covered her mouth, surprised he didn't know what was going on.

"Resonna!" Daniel leapt off Arcee's body and transformed into his exo-suit. He marched up to her. "You heard what Magnus said. Go back to bed!"

She unintentionally ignored her father as the Matrix carried the light blue orb from Magnus to Rodimus. Relief assailed the girl, well, it was the Matrix that was projecting, actually. Rusti watched as the cloud of light blanketed Rodimus almost lovingly and sank into his body.

It was the last straw for Daniel, however. He gripped his daughter's hand and dragged her out of the room. Rusti kept glancing over her shoulder back toward Rodimus and just heard Arcee, now in automobile mode exclaim that her scanners showed the lines had rectified themselves.

She sounds so surprised, Rusti thought. As if it were a miracle of some kind! Daniel forced his daughter up against a wall and instantly had her undivided attention.

"I've had enough with you already, young lady!" He spat through the helmet. The face plates moved with his own muscles, giving him an eerie, non-human look. "Now you do what you're told, or I'm going to land right in the middle of you!"

She silently stared at him, unable to say anything. His empty threats meant nothing to her anymore. Besides, once Roddi was up and functional, there would be no way he could touch her. She was tired anyway and relieved that Roddi was going to be okay. She wordlessly turned from her father and returned to the med bay.

Magnus sat motionless in the storage room for four hours pouring over endless reports. Each digipad he browsed spelled worse news than the last-except the weapons report. They successfully made it off the moon with minimal casualties and fewer injuries. But as a force, they were down by two shuttles. That wasn't so good. Their survivor numbers weren't so good either; all of a hundred and thirteen refugees out of about 2400 Autobots world-wide. That didn't include Mars which had a growing population of three hundred.

Magnus tapped the bottom of his lower lip component with the current digipad. Where was Optimus in all this? No sound from Mars. Even Rusti didn't know and if the girl couldn't tell them what might be going on, the situation could be grim indeed. Optimus had always been so careful with the lives of his people. If there had been any possibility of contacting Earth, he would have found a way.

Rodimus softly groaned from the flatbed and stirred. Magnus' head shot up, his large square optics watched every movement the Autobot leader made, hoping it was not just a momentary attempt to come back to life.

It wasn't. Rodimus tried to sit up and although he failed, he still turned his head and met Magnus optic to optic. "What hit me more than once and refused to pay worker's comp?"

Magnus stood and approached the flat. "Good to see you actually alive and asking questions, Rodimus." He welcomed. "I don't know how you survived, but it's good that you have."

"What?" Magnus was talking too fast for him. All Rodimus was able to pick up was 'good' and 'survived'.

The city commander smiled wryly and laid a hand on Roddi's right shoulder. "Everything's alright. We've escaped Earth entirely."

It took another moment for him to piece it all together but Rodimus finally realized what Mags was saying. "Oh, gawd. Rusti. I - I fell and she was screaming and . . ."

"And she's alright."

The words very suddenly eased Rodimus' fears and he calmed. "I don't remember anything, Mags. Me and Springer went into the city and I talked with those weird aliens and I just don't recall anything now. How many of us escaped?"

"Not many, Rodimus."

"Mars?"

"No word."

Fear and pain creased the Autobot leader's face plates and Rodimus had to look away. He laid his hand alongside his head until it fell back down as though made of lead. "Gawd, he'd better not leave us again, Magnus."

"Lack of communication is never good or bad, Rodimus. It just means there is no communication."

Rodimus slowly sat up and stared at Magnus as though the city commander had lost his mind. "I'm . . ." He shook his head. "I'm in no condition to argue with you."

Magnus looked pleasantly surprised. "Good. Then, you'll be glad to know we're on our way to star gate 09-A."

"Centarus?"

"It seems the closest place for refuge at the moment. We're short two shuttles, low on supplies and four shuttles need repairs. We also have little to no food. As you know, the Target and Headmasters require a great deal of it."

Rodimus frowned. "Yeah. I know. Centaurus is as good a place as any, Magnus. Good work. Who's all with us, anyway?"

Magnus paced the room once. "Jazz, some of his people. Gryphon, Convoy, Titanium."

Roddi expected to hear Trax's name and looked puzzled when he didn't. "New York?"

"No." Magnus replied heavily. "Word is New Jersey was bombed. Blown to the Pit."

The news struck a bad note in Rodimus and he just sat there, stunned. "My gawd, Mags. Do you know what that means?"

Magnus nodded. "It means they knew where to hit us. It means they must have had this planned in stages, and well-timed. Somehow, they had gotten inside information. And, most likely, Rodimus, they must have ordered your execution. We almost lost you. I still don't know how you're surviving with damaged line conduits."

"How did they get information about New York, Magnus?" Rodimus asked softly. "How did they find out about our bases, how did they plant those worms under the city? How did they get that information?" He gazed at Magnus and suddenly felt both very much out of place and very much in a place he did not want to be. Too much! All of it was costing too much! Not just in property or lives, but in anguish.

Rodimus pulled himself off the flat and tried to walk a little. It was very little too because he nearly fell in the attempt. He waved Magnus off when the city commander sprang to help. Prime wanted to do it under his own power. He needed to pace, he needed to stand and think.

"Twenty-five years of fighting the Quints and five years ago they suddenly called for a cease-fire. Then they ask for a treaty to which Prime and I both thought they were very serious. Then they kidnap Optimus and Cody Greydon and the space station comes to life and . . . several months later they make a full-scale assault."

Rodimus returned to the flat, his energy levels were far lower than he thought, but the walking helped to ease his distress. "Magnus, what would they want with a high school student?"

"Perhaps the same thing they took from all those other creatures you found in that room on the space station."

Rodimus stared at Magnus, recalling the room where the Quints had stored the carcasses of every sentient creature in the known galaxy. Some of those bodies had been hung up like slabs of meat waiting to be sliced and devoured.

Rodimus shuddered at the idea of eating another creature.

He ruefully smiled at Magnus. "How's everyone?"

Ultra Magnus was grateful for the change in subject. Then his shoulder struts fell just like a child who didn't get what he wanted most for Christmas. "Fort Max is gone." He sighed heavily. "There's nothing left."

It was his city. Not just another piece of architecture or fancy real estate, but his city. And it was gone. Rodimus tried to smile encouragingly but knew it would not matter what he'd do or say. "I'm sorry, Big Guy." He answered quietly.

Magnus shot him a surprised look. It was seldom Rodimus would call him that. Very seldom and always spoken with respect. Roddi had changed a great deal over the years. He had suffered so much to begin with only to be yanked and pulled by life's little surprises. There were too many wounds that burdened the Autobot leader. Not the least of which were the sins he committed while under the influence of the Matrix virus. And, Primus, what a terrible thing that must be to bear! How deep those scars must run! Not just the mind games he played with Optimus, but the people he maimed and tortured; the humans who suffered horribly at his hands! It had cast a dark shadow over the two Primes and everything regarding those events were locked under the tightest of security files.

Sometimes Magnus dared wonder who really paid the highest price.

Rodimus sighed loudly and slipped off the flat again. "Well, I guess I'd better get out there and see what's going on."

"Rodimus, you should rest." Magnus admonished.

The Autobot leader stopped for a moment then turned to his friend. "You're starting to sound like me, Mags. Better stop, or I'll become another Optimus." He grinned when Magnus threw his hands in the air and swung away, insulted.

Rodimus entered the shuttle's mid-section and glanced about. He smiled a greeting at a recovered Kup, a sleepy Diox and Groove and wiggled his fingers hello at Arcee who gaped the most. "I found a can of spinach in the storage room." He joked, pointing a thumb to the storage room behind him.

Kup and Diox exchanged looks and shook their heads.

"Springer?" He turned to the wrecker pilot.

Springer had to do a double-glance before accepting he wasn't seeing a ghost. He flipped a couple of switches on the board, giving everyone a clear view of what was ahead. "The star gate's open and clear."

"Good. Brainstorm, patch me in to fleet-wide com."

The Headmaster silently complied and gave a thumb's-up. "Commander, I have an idea-"

"Later." Rodimus brushed. "Autobots, this is Prime. We're heading for gate 09-A, straight for the Centaurus System. Once there, this shuttle will land first. Everyone else is to remain out of the orbit of any planet. Keep in touch and hang on to your servos."

Brainstorm turned, "Perceptor says the Centurions will most likely not welcome us."

Rodimus glared at the temporary communications officer. "Tell Perceptor he doesn't know everything and keep that channel clear."

Warp Gate 09-A stood a good distance beyond Venus. Nestled between Venus and the star gate stood the EDC space platform originally designed by Grapple years before his death. Once it was used for target practice by Galvatron but humans, being a diligent, stubborn race, rebuilt the platform and called it Phoenix. Here, however, as the Autobots crossed its path, they found the platform empty. Several lights were missing, broken by an all-too-apparent battle.

Rodimus silently stared at the sadly eerie sight. Then he realized the platform was misshapen, as though distorted by some impossible means. He leaned against the consol for a closer view. "What in the nine hells of . . . Brainstorm, scan the area."

Silently, the Autobot officer complied and they waited. Springer eased the shuttle around the platform and Rodimus found himself growing sicker the more he saw. Huge gaping holes yawned from the sides of the platform. Debris and body fragments floated like little leaves in the windlessness of space. The worst sight was a huge octopi-like creature laying over the top of the platform. Its tentacles wrapped about the station as though it were its very own toy. But the creature itself lay dark, fried solid to the top of the platform. Rodimus figured the crew electrified the creature.

"Sir?" Brainstorm called, "No life forms. A great deal of genetic material, though. It's all very puzzling I mean--hey, I'm getting Matrix energy readings here! You don't think the monster's 'r all--"

"Can you down load any logs or reports?" Rodimus intervened.

"Uh, yeah. C'n do that. Though, I thought about the manifest and wondered why two Autobots had not--"

"Brainstorm, the logs?"

The Autobot complied and worked quickly, trying to create a line between the shuttle's computer and the platform's. "Oh, uh, sir, got incoming from Commander Titanium."

"Patch in."

"Rodimus?" the larger Autobot greeted. "Did you get a look at the creature on top?"

"Yeah." Roddi confirmed. "But I'm more interested in why we didn't get a distress signal."

"I'd like permission to send someone down there for a closer look."

"Good idea." The Autobot leader agreed. "And send a back-up. I've got a real ugly feeling about this."

Titanium sent in Perceptor and Sideswipe with Streetwise as backup. The three Autobots docked onto the outer edge of the great gaping hole on the colder, port side of the platform and Sideswipe entered first. The red Autobot stepped through, weapon held tightly, set to kill. He scanned the left area first, sweeping the immediate room with all scanners. He triple-checked the vicinity before even considering allowing his two charges in.

From their shuttle just above Tite's, Rodimus watched and wondered why Sideswipe was taking so long. He reached over Brainstorm and patched a com to the over-cautious Sideswipe. "Hey, Sides, don't take this too seriously. If you think it isn't safe--"

"Just makin' sure, boss." the Autobot replied. "Don't want any of us t' end up like toasters, y'know."

Roddi straightened his weary frame and sighed without an answer. He shook his head.

Sideswipe advanced, a cyberlight floated in just behind him. Perceptor tagged, but not closely enough. Streetwise covered the entrance, scanning in opposite directions Sideswipe swept through.

Perceptor moaned inwardly. How was he supposed to work with these two nervous wrecks standing around him? He activated another cyberlight and made his way right, as his scanner indicated a source of energy. "Prime," he called Rodimus, "I am receiving irregular energy waves. I'm not certain what variety until I attain a closer examination."

"Good, Perceptor," Roddi answered, "Proceed with caution."

The dark ruins of the platform gave each explorer the surges. Tools and various equipment and weapons floated freely about the station. Damaged controls stood like mercilessly gutted animals. Half a humanoid body lay on one consol, frozen blood glued what was left of him to the machine.

Then Streetwise found a tentacle and handed it to the Autobot scientist.

"Sideswipe has confirmed our hypotheses, Rodimus. We found a Quintesson tentacle. But it is not the source of energy I'm still detecting." He proceeded down a cold dark corridor. Here many more broken and tattered bodies floated in the weightlessness of space. Sideswipe reported the count and type of each victim as the trio made their way down the hall. They took a right according to the directions of Perceptor's scanner and slowly found their way back towards the main entrance, but a whole room over.

Prior to arriving at the Platform, Rusti had returned to the med-bay. Targetmaster Lockdown greeted her with a sullen expression. He was one of only two humanoids who weren't seriously injured. Cynyr was the other. But Cynyr was still asleep. Rusti crawled back onto the cold surface of a flatbed meant for Micromasters, Target/Headmasters or whatever other subspecies of Transformer would rise from some unforeseen event. She had fallen asleep from sheer boredom and would not have awakened had something not Tugged at her subconscious. The signal was familiar, and not familiar. It was disgusting and filthy and murderous. It fattened itself on blood and fear. And somehow, some way, it Knew.

Rusti tried to voice Rodimus' name, but nothing came to her lips. Someone else turned to her and spoke her name, though it was not with a voice. Osund . . . wait a minute, something was wrong. Something wasn't right here. What was it? What was . . she was still asleep, floating between two worlds. The girl drew a deep breath and concentrated on talking to Roddi.

_They're not alone there._ she sent.

Again she could grasp something being said, but not by words. She repeated the message and fell more deeply asleep.

Rodimus patched in, "Okay, Sideswipe, bring your team out. I think we've seen enough."

"Uh, boss . . . no can do."

Sideswipe, Streetwise and Perceptor stood face to face with a huge spider-like quadruped. It loomed over them like some guardian from the gates of Torments. It hissed once, its abdomen shrank and swelled, giving the Autobots the suspicion the creature lived on more than blood and air.

Perceptor's scanner bleeped repeatedly until he discovered the source of disturbance: a remote caller. "We must attain that remote caller." he advised his companions. "I believe we could manipulate its frequencies straight to the Centaurus System without having to utilize the gates; which would still prohibit our aimed destination for at least a week."

The quadruped spider took a step toward Sideswipe and he raised the power on his weapon. "Explain that to Tall Dark and Ugly."

Streetwise glanced all around the area, keeping careful contact with his friends while he searched for anything to give them an advantage. He overheard Prime's orders to retreat and Sideswipe explaining if they moved, they'd be pounced on. That was when Streetwise noted the decompression chamber not far away.

"Sides! The decomp chamber! We c'n lure your girlfriend in there!"

"She's not MY date!" Sideswipe retorted. "Sheesh. Whatever happened to good taste in make-up and clothes? Commander," he spoke to Prime, "We've got an idea that might work. Give us another . . ." he thought briefly, "seven minutes."

Rodimus' optics narrowed with loss of patience. "Six." he growled. He suppressed sending a glare to a sniggering Springer.

With a hiss, the spider-thing charged Perceptor. But Sideswipe fired at the monster, gaining its attention. He fired again and again until it leapt for him. He cringed as a long thin leg pierced the floor right next to him. The Autobot transformed to car mode and sped as far away as he could considering the lack of space for maneuvering. His tactics worked until the monster caught up and pounced on him like a cat. He groaned under the weight caused by the artificial gravity, fearing the weight would damage his struts.

Streetwise came up from behind and fired at the monster's backside, gaining little advantage. However, the monster seemed determined to sit on Sideswipe like a hen on a nest.

The platform's lights suddenly shot on, blinding both Autobot and monster alike. The monster freaked and partially lifted its weight just enough for Sideswipe to screech out from underneath. He transformed, jumped to his feet and delivered the hardest pile-drive punch he could muster. The spider's head bobbed with impact, enraging the beast all the more. Streetwise fired at it, hoping to direct its attention elsewhere.

"I don't think that'll do you any good, buddy!" Sideswipe shouted. I seem to be its new love-affair!"

A cable-thin leg fell through the air and Sideswipe leapt into the air with a somersault. He rolled head-over-heels along the ground toward Streetwise and the spider followed their movements. The Autobots dodged an assault and the two dashed for the de-comp chamber.

Streetwise activated the unit. "Hey, how are we supposed to lure the thing in there?"

"Me, of course!" Sideswipe replied all too easily.

Streetwise stared at his comrade. "Sides . . ."

"Hey!" the other Autobot retorted. "I have no intention of dying today, got it?"

"Yeah . . ."

"You man the controls, I'll take care of my 'date'."

The spider attacked just as Sideswipe finished his sentence. This time, the Autobot was ready and just as the creature attacked, Sideswipe gave it a jump-kick in an eye. The monster shrieked and without losing time or balance, Sideswipe fired a blow to another eye. Blood and fluids spilled and the monster clawed at its eye and the Autobot at the same time. It inched for him and he drew back a little until he was in the chamber.

The spider hesitated. Its other six eyes darted to and fro as though it knew what was happening.

"Come on, Stupid!" Sideswipe snarled. He dashed for it and gave it another hard punch, grabbing it by the pincers and yanked and tugged until it tried to bite him. He kicked it under the mouth, then kicked it in the mouth.

That was the final proverbial straw. The freak thing squeezed inside and Sideswipe leapt to the ceiling, grabbing hold of the light structures then catapulted himself over Ugly and out the door. Once out, Streetwise slammed the door and locked it. He activated the chamber, setting on instant compression.

"Run!" the Protectobot ordered. "It'll blow in seconds!"

Perceptor joined them at the opening, a large box in his hands. "I have it!" he announced excitedly. "It's in immaculate condition!"

"It'll be flattened if we don't get out of here!" Sideswipe grabbed the Autobot scientist and leapt off the platform, using his jet pack for distance. Streetwise leapt off just as the compression chamber blew. But the soundlessness of space prevented them from hearing anything. They felt the sudden push radiating from the explosion. And when they were far enough away from the platform, Magnus' ship swept under and took them in.

"I have it!" Perceptor repeated. "It's intact! I can now modulate its frequencies and activate its residential address to advance us through inter-dimensional stellar access!" He connected the ship's computer to the box and typed in several command codes. He tweaked the controls and with a bleep from the box, Gate 0-9-A suddenly swelled in appearance. It's faint light burst like a flower and showered over all the ships.

One moment, all reality stretched like images distorted by a video screen. The next, the stars stood in different arrangements. Two A-class battle cruisers and about two dozen small star fighters met their entrance into Centaurus air space. Before the Autobots could contact the battle fleet, the cruisers arranged themselves around the refugee ships in a tight circle.

Springer turned to Rodimus who really looked as though he were ready to black out. "Roddi, they've just raised shields and all their cannons are powered for maximum field range. I don't think they're here to ask us to dance."


	5. Remnant

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 5  
**Remnant**

**LOCATION: EARTH**

**EARTH DATE: OCTOBER 27,2038**

Silence.

Gentleness.

Someone hushed his soul.

Someone cradled his torn spirit.

Quipper, dead.

The fortress-cities were destroyed.

All gone.

All lost.

Cybertron.

Gone.

Lost.

In the dark, nothing is seen, but everything is felt, everything is sensed. And the pain is relentless.

He turned away.

He turned his back on that life. They stole it from him first, then forced him to come back and live it.

Stop! Stop!

He struggled for breath, struggled for light.

_She_ struggled for breath, struggled for light.

One tiny reason to press forward.

One tiny voice that held him back from self-incrimination and certain suicide.

One tiny light in his soul.

The only reason for staying alive.

And his optics flashed on.

And he forced himself to reactivate because he knew he could not deny that she needed him. She could not live-and was that a falsehood? Was that his own arrogance speaking? Or was it true, that if he died, so would she?

He laughed at himself. What utter nonsense!

And yet . . . he could not deny it, either. She loved him.

She loved him!

And his fingers twitched and touched a cold dark wall.

She loved him.

And that love filled him and forced him to press forward.

He had to get back to her, he had to move on because he knew how hurt she would be if he gave up, if he didn't care enough to try.

He had to get back to his Baby bird.

Baby bird.

"Russsti . . ." he whispered her sacred name.

He lived on because of her.

In a spacecraft that resembled the interior of an insect's nest, two Decepticons sat against a prison wall opposite Optimus Prime. The whole ship seemed alive. The walls swept up and down in rounded corners, their construction seeming more a combination of rock and paper rather than metal and organic fibers. Dark and colorful in light, the ship did well to conceal its people. Galvatron and Cyclonus more than once were spooked by an Inoux Infantry or Destroyer Class that literally stepped through the walls to check them. Once or twice a Quint peered in the doorway from the hall, more to gloat than to just take a glance.

Optimus had been out for almost three days straight. It was no wonder, really, considering what he'd been through. Galvatron was completely amazed Prime lived through the attack at all. How did he survive when all it took was Megatron's rampage in 2005 to kill him the first time? That's right, the Decepticon mused to himself. A good slice by a photon-saber, a few good aims with a regular laser hand gun and . . . no more Optimus Prime.

Well, for the most part.

But this . . . Prime survived an assassin's attack. How? A time or two, Prime returned to consciousness but he was in such a dazed and disoriented state that Galvatron simply ordered him to shut back down and worry about whatever was upsetting him later.

Surprisingly, Optimus complied, muttering something about Rodimus and a pain in his chest.

It could be some time again before Prime awakened. And by then, they'd be well on their way to the Inoux's home world. Not a cheerful thought. Galvatron inwardly frowned. They had no weapons, no energon chips, no way out.

Then Optimus' optics flickered on.

"He's awakening!" Cyclonus' voice piped with excitement. But Galvatron did not respond. Optimus' coming to was only part of the battle.

DEFRAG PROGRAMMING ACTIVATED.

He floated between dream and reality.

His mind drifted back to the death of Fortress Zenith. The Project wasn't done. Thank the Matrix Paul had a back up.

DEFRAG COMPLETED.

DAMAGE ANALYSIS ACTIVATED.

Why was there no warning? There should have been a warning from somewhere.

DAMAGE ANALYSIS COMPLETED AT 1100 HOURS, PACIFIC STANDARD TIME.

Troubling thoughts stirred Optimus Prime from his recharging state and he activated his optic sensors. A violet, deep blue light greeted him in calm stillness. He inadvertently moved his right arm but found it bound by an energon brace. A cold metal wall stood against his left and gazing right, he spotted Galvatron and Cyclonus.

He had to take a second glance. Then decided he needed more proof: "You two?" He chirruped.

Galvatron grunted. "I'd say 'good morning', Prime, but it's three days later. November fifth, if my chronometer is correct. Approximately eleven hundred Pacific Standard Time."

Prime had to let that sink a moment longer. The past few days (week?) were nothing but a jumbled mess. Just snatches of memories, really. Something about a trial, something about the arrival of the Inoux. Something about Rodimus.

And the thought of Rodimus dying somehow cleared Prime's head. Something terrible must have happened because . . . he drifted and wondered . . . no, just snatches of fleeting thoughts and feelings came and left. He thought he suffered from a deja vu that really hadn't occurred yet.

Yet?

Or was it HIS death that should have . . .

No. It didn't matter. Sometimes what one Prime felt, the other did too. It was confusing at times.

"The Inoux have returned." Galvatron voiced quietly.

"Yes." Prime answered automatically. It was that automatic answer that drew his attention to the present moment and the crisis he now faced. "And you can bet they're not here to apologize." He waited about three beats before finally asking: "Where did you two come from?"

Galvatron smiled lightly. "Originally? Or Post-originally?" It was a joke and it flew over Prime's head like a flat ballobot. The Decepticon frowned and wondered if Prime would ever attain a sense of humor. "Cyclonus and I have been traveling for several months. We came in from the Pakaline system."

Although bound, Prime managed to flinch in surprise. "The blast from Cybertron threw you out that far? That's in the Delta quadrant, Galvatron. It should have taken you at least seventy years to get back!"

"Erhm . . . that's a long story."

All three fell awkwardly silent. Prime tried to find something to say, something to keep things light between them. He tried not to stare his two enemies. But that aversion gave him another question: "I know what they'd want with me, but why are they dragging the two of you along?"

"Repair shop decorations?" Cyclonus offered.

It was a joke but Optimus was so surprised to find that Cyclonus could joke at all, he didn't think about laughing.

Galvatron ignored Cyclonus' remark altogether. "We were attempting to rescue you when a ship appeared and took all three of us. It would seem we're in this together now."

Optimus knew better than to trust a statement like that. But really, they could not afford not to join forces. Rather than argue with the nefarious Decepticon, Optimus stared at the ceiling and tried to come up with an escape plan. Soft semi-organic lights above them shimmered slightly, reminding him too much of his office in Fort Max.

The wall next to him waved, physical molecules shifted and swirled. Reflexively Prime shut off his optics, hoping their host would believe he was still off-line. The tapping of Inoux feet echoed eerily in his audios and something jabbed his side. He did nothing.

"Ttk't'btt'k. Klaskass k'ttick n'kettic."

Silence. Then: "You, Decepticon. Know you nothing of Autobot physiology?"

Optimus almost held his breath, hoping Galvatron would not betray him. "What?" Galvatron's voice snarled loudly. It was not the same high-pitched voice of a mad-ridden Transformer, but a deep throaty voice of a leader of mechanisms. "Fool! I am Galvatron! Leader of the Decepticons! I have no use for such knowledge except where to rip an Autobot apart!"

Silence again hung thick in the air.

Then: "Repairs completed. Decepticons conscious. Autobot does not awaken."

Optimus could feel the creature straddle its long spider-like legs over his body and its head came eerily close to his face.

And he could hear it breathe.

It withdrew and its footless legs tapped the strange floor beneath them. "Traumatized. S'klikik Quintesson . . . annoying."

Dead silence returned to the cell.

"I hate those things." Galvatron grumbled.

Prime failed in his attempt to sit up. His hands were bound securely beneath him, his feet bound at the ankles. "Let's hope that bought us some time."

Galvatron tilted his head: "Prime, if one of us were to short-circuit something, we might be able to cancel another's energon bonds and free the other two."

Optimus stared at him dubiously. If he were to short-circuit one of his hands somehow, the resulting electric spark might short out the energon field. But there was no guarantee whether he could do it to his own hands or not. It would be easier to damage someone else's hand . . . He glanced from one Decepticon companion to the other, knowing his face plates were covered in a doubtful expression. "Hm. It might work . . ." he answered with some hesitation. "And we could use the cords to open the door by connecting them to the light above us."

Chances were, however, that the two 'cons would free themselves, escape and leave him there in the cell. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea after all. He couldn't trust either of them, whether or not they aided in his fight on Mars. There was always the inevitable possibility Galvatron had an ulterior motive.

Galvatron pulled himself to the middle of the room, looking completely ridiculous as he dragged his rear along the floor, pushing with one part of his body and pulling with the other. "Come along!" He encouraged. "Work at it!"

Optimus sighed inwardly. He was asking for it, he just knew it! Reluctantly he complied, moving a little slower than the other two. Galvatron laughed. The three of them had to inch along the floor like microworms on dry concrete, pushing with their legs, then trying to pull with their torsos, their hands bound behind their backs. It was not a comfortable position to be in, but they managed. Optimus wondered how long it would take for their idea to work, and who would be free first and . . . and . . . really, he just didn't want to think about it. He was setting himself up.

What an idiot.

The three groped about each other's hands for several long moments but it was Optimus who sliced Cyclonus' hand. The idea worked and Cyclonus yanked himself free of what was left of the metal bond. He in turn freed Galvatron and (to Prime's surprise) freed Optimus.

Well, they still have a use for me, Optimus thought dryly. He yanked the cord apart then freed his ankles. He rotated his arms, sore from lying on them for so many days.

Galvatron stood and began to connect the cords to one another. When he made long enough a strand, he gazed at the light then at the door. "Cyclonus?" He didn't need to say anything more. The other Decepticon studied the doorway, searching for the locking and entrance panel. "Seems to be on the floor, Mighty One." He reported.

Galvatron lifted himself from the ground and carefully removed the lighting panel, handing it to Prime.

"Careful, Galvatron." Prime warned out of habit, not because he was really concerned for Galvatron's safety. The Decepticon said nothing, cautiously examining the inner workings of the fixture. He found the light was supposed to have three tubes but had only two. He broke one of the other tubes and used the thin glass to protect himself from electrical surge. Cyclonus picked up the other end of the cord and after prying open the door's control panel, set the end of the cord inside the locking switch.

"Ready, Galvatron."

The former Decepticon leader looked away, shutting his optics and shoved his end of the cord into the socket. A resounding 'zap' hissed through the air and a slight ghost of smoke wafted upward. Cyclonus pressed his weight against the door and tried to pry it open. Optimus found his opportunity to help and stood behind Cyclonus and pushed. After a moment, the door grudgingly gave way and Cyclonus stepped aside, allowing Prime to finish the job.

And even at this point, Prime waited to be shot at or knocked down as his companions tried to escape without him.

But neither Decepticon did a thing. Prime peered round the left side and Galvatron peered out the right. Prime found nothing. Galvatron found what he didn't want to see.

"So!" He sneered. "The universe still hasn't changed in my absence!" Galvatron stepped into the corridor and faced two Gobots who held them at sword-point. Galvatron held his head high. "I see there's still universal garbage polluting the star systems. Tell me, you two didn't register with the intent of being sapient, did you?"

The Gobot on the right, an apparent vehicle-transforming model, pointed at Galvatron. "Didn't I see your face plates somewhere on the back of an Earth oil can label?" she joked.

"Come on, Crasher," the other robot, a helicopter by design, dared a step toward Galvatron. He looked uglier than she but not as mean. Prime and Galvatron waited for the robots to make the first move. And for long seconds, no one did.

But the male proved to be an idiot and he charged first. Before Galvatron made a move, the helicopter was thrown against the wall. Prime's swift move enraged the female and she shouted and charged. Prime flipped her over his back so that she ended up in Galvatron's 'loving' arms. Prime yanked the vibro sword from 'Ugly', flipped him over on his back then sent him sailing right into their cell.

Galvatron made short work of 'Crasher' and sent her flying after. Cyclonus rigged the control panel outside their former prison and closed the door. He obliterated the controls and smiled proudly. "Four points." He gave Prime a thumbs-up and grinned even broader when Prime returned the smile.

"Forward." Galvatron pointed. The trio walked as lightly as they could for a while until Prime stopped.

"Hold it." He called. The cons both stopped dead in their tracks and stared at him. "Something's wrong."

"Yes." Galvatron agreed. "No one's around. We should have met opposition somewhere around five minutes ago. This can't be a Quintesson ship; no alarms sounded after we escaped."

Prime touched the wall beside him and shook his head. "No. I don't think it's a Quintesson ship. There are no Sharkticons, no slaves. And the Quintessons do not have ships made of calcium and silicate."

"It must still have weapons on board." Cyclonus surmised.

Both cons stared at Prime again as though asking his permission to explore. "Good call, Cyclonus." Optimus instantly answered. "I have my weapon, but the battle on Mars has shorted my subspace circuitry. Whomever repaired us apparently doesn't know everything about Transformer physiology."

Galvatron tapped his chin. "And since we're in the brig, it must mean everything else it above us."

He walked on followed by Prime with Cyclonus tagging them. Some yards away they found an elevator lift and Galvatron discreetly chose the third level. Must be a huge ship, Prime thought. Cyclonus fidgeted next to him and Prime was more than grateful for the vibro sword he accommodated from the Gobot 'chopper'. Although Galvatron and Cyclonus seemed in no need to do so much as belittle him or size him up for attack, Optimus simply could not trust either of them and tried not to let their short conversations throw him off guard.

The lift came to a halt and the door slid open. A single-faced Quint met their optics and Galvatron unceremoniously punched it in the muzzle. The Quint fell with a very agreeable 'thump', tentacles flaying. Both Galvatron's and Cyclonus' optics followed their enemy to the ground then flinched at the resulting sound. The three of them just stood there and stared for a very long moment.

Galvatron called the sword from subspace and frowned. "Humph. Probably should skewered his miserable hide."

"Would have been messy." Cyclonus grunted.

Prime stepped out the lift first and swept the unconscious form in one graceful move. "We don't have time to kill it outright." He glanced at his companions over his shoulder and moved ahead. Galvatron smiled at Cyclonus and followed after.

It took another fifteen minuets' worth of walk before the trio approached another door. A sign dangled above, written in Inouxese. Prime turned around to face Galvatron and Cyclonus, the Quint still limp over his broad shoulder.

"A Quintesson mess hall?" He asked. "Anyone hungry?"

Galvatron pointed to their prisoner. "Don't tell me these tentacle freaks actually ingest energon now."

"No. They still require organic substance. I was just wondering if we shouldn't add this thing to their menu."

The two Decepticons laughed and Galvatron opened the door, allowing Prime to enter first. Optimus slammed the Quint across a table as Cyclonus jammed the door behind them. The Quint came to and spat a nasty black substance at Prime. He missed Optimus but Cyclonus got to experience its disgusting, slimy stench first hand-all over his face.

He didn't look very happy.

Galvatron moved in and gripped its neck like a vice. His whole face contorted into anger. "Weapons, fool!" He snarled.

"I don't talk to slaves." The Quint snarled in Decepticon.

Prime leaned against the table, optics set hard. "We're not interested in your racial preferences. Tell us where to find the weapons room."

"Or what?" it challenged. "You'll hang me upside down-trying to keep in tradition with your repulsive pacifistic ways, Autobot rabble?"

Galvatron released the Quintesson's 'neck' and swiftly gripped it right under all the tentacles. The Quint squealed like an injured mouse and Prime shot Galvatron a surprised look. "Address him nicely, Quint scum." The Decepticon growled, "I may have changed allegiances, but I'm not beyond murder. Answer the question!"

The Quint had to draw breath three times before turning to Prime. "**Gasp** Three corridors to the right." His voice squeaked like Rusti's and it took Optimus a great deal of self-control not to burst out laughing. Galvatron allowed himself a smile.

"Working with your slimy race has proved beneficial after all." The former Decepticon leader purred. "Now, what on Cybertron should we do with your sorry carcass?"

Cyclonus had disappeared then returned from the kitchen, wiping his face with four wet towels. "We can't let him live, Mighty One. He's bound to squeal."

"Making him squeal now as it is." Galvatron's grin broadened.

"I have an idea." Prime interjected. The two cons gazed at him, intrigued.

Galvatron locked the door to the kitchen's walk-in freezer and the three of them could hear the Quint inside whine and plea for release.

"This might work." Galvatron crossed his arms, staring approving at Prime.

"We may need him for information later." Optimus added.

"I hope not." Cyclonus groaned. His companions stared at him just momentarily, but neither of them were willing to tell Cyclonus that he missed a large area alongside his right temple. He turned away and Galvatron grinned and followed with Prime tracking behind.

They traversed further into the ship, searching for the weapons room. A door or two appeared, marked only by a Quintessons' name. Prime trailed his fingers along the dark, rocky bulkheads, listening with everything he had. "Where is everyone?" He asked. "This does not feel right."

"Agreed." Galvatron nodded in front of him. "As though they've all abandoned ship."

"Then," Cyclonus added, "who was the guard that visited us before? And how do you explain the two Gobots?"

"The Gobots are obviously doing work for monitory reasons." Galvatron surmised. "Scutzoids aren't the only 'thugs-for-hire'."

"And it could be," Optimus added, "we were not the only prisoners on board." Prime suggested.

They found the room and Cyclonus rigged it open. Inside they found just about every weapon imaginable. Galvatron set aside the vibro-sword and took stock of all the pulsars and laser rifles before them. Rocket launchers and null-rays lined other shelves and in a special case lay three rail-guns. Prime searched for a tool box of any kind and found only a small one at the far corner of the room. He wasn't too happy with it and decided he'd have to repair his subspace circuitry later. He settled for one of the rail guns, checking it for accuracy, payload and any possible added abilities.

To his right a laser rifle powered up and he jumped to his feet, finding Cyclonus holding a pulsar rifle at him. He aimed at the other Decepticon, who busily reset his rifle's frequency, right in the target range. Cyclonus was setting the rifle to kill.

Galvatron had seen Prime move suddenly and thought they had been discovered, but all he saw was an unwary Cyclonus. He held his breath. "Cyclonus," he said ever so softly. "Put your rifle down."

Cyclonus gazed at him then spotted Prime. The Autobot didn't make a move, his optics bore right through the former Decepticon lieutenant, and Cyclonus suddenly felt very nervous. Slowly he set his hands on the barrel of the weapon and laid it on the ground, his hands held in the air. He stepped away from the weapon.

"Prime." Galvatron called. "Prime, put the weapon down."

No response.

Galvatron approached him, noting how Optimus stood there as though frozen in time. Damnit, they were doing so well, too! "Prime, we're not your enemies."

Optimus finally gave him a sidelong glance.

The Decepticon's optics narrowed. "If we wanted to terminate you, we would have done it back in the cell. If we had no need of you, we would never have come to Mars."

Prime swung the gunpoint from Cyclonus to Galvatron far more swiftly than the Decepticon would have liked. A dangerous light sparked Prime's optics. "What do you want of me, Galvatron?" He demanded. "You act as though we're all long-time friends. You've got a lot of guts assuming I'd trust you blindly."

"Rightfully so." Galvatron agreed. "Far too much has happened between us for you to simply forgo any suspicions. You're right in assuming betrayal at any moment. But I counted on you as an Autobot to give us a chance."

Prime's optics narrowed, cursing his own racial heritage. It made him weak. It blinded his survival instincts; trusting when he should be killing. And he cursed himself for not being more prepared.

But he still could not pull the goddamn trigger.

Galvatron pushed the weapon away and Prime expected to receive a right-cross. But Galvatron only stared at him optic to optic. "Optimus," he said softly. "We're not your enemies. We knew about the attack on Mars and hoped to intercept. But we came too late."

Prime's expression did not change and Galvatron tried to think of something else to say. He stepped away and held his arms apart from his body. "Prime, look at me." He kept his voice steady; Optimus always responded best to a soft voice. "I have no weapons. I can't even transform. I had to give that up in order to live. I was sent back to aid you."

That worked. Prime's stance relaxed a little and he disengaged the rifle. "By whom?"

Galvatron tried not to look too relieved. "I don't have any names. Cyclonus and I are here as fugitives. The Decepticons believe me to be dead. Cyclonus found me-and has been my companion since." Here the Decepticon sent a grateful look at his former lieutenant.

Prime was curious, but not wholly convinced. "And what's to prevent either of you from eliminating me later?"

Galvatron hadn't thought of that. Not really. He had no plans as to how he was really going to convince Prime. Come to think of it, he wondered to himself, there would be no 'convincing' at all. Trust wasn't something given, but earned. He had to prove, to earn Prime's trust. The word 'ally' was far too strong at this point. They needed each other to survive, that much was true. "I'm not suggesting we suddenly become friends." He defended. Cyclonus and I cannot survive on our own. Believe it or not, we need you as much as you need us. All we ask is half a chance. After all, we haven't roused your suspicions until now, have we?"

Damn. Decepticons were a pain in the diodes. Prime faltered for that piece of logic and meekly nodded but turned away from Galvatron, ashamed. He feared they would use him then toss him aside like some sort of Human-made disposable item.

It wasn't the response Galvatron was after. Rather than somehow attaining some sliver of trust, Prime surrendered like a prisoner who had no choice. Or, rather, more like someone who's been abused into submission, he thought dismally. Either way, the Autobot's response caused the moment to turn awkward and neither Decepticon could think of anything to say that would turn the emotions of uncertainty and fear around.

An alarm shuddered through the ship and a Quint ordered temporary personnel to report to the captain-at-hand outside. The message was repeated before Prime faced Galvatron again.

"Outside?" Cyclonus asked. "What does that mean?"

"They're under attack." Prime replied. And just as he said it, the ship vibrated as bombs bounced off shields.

"All the more reason to find a way off this craft!" Galvatron hissed. He checked his weapon and searched the room for extra power clips. Prime did the same and found three boxes. He took one box, gave Galvatron the other and they split the third between them. Cyclonus fancied a pulse rifle and found a limited stock of ammo.

The ship rocked under them and alarm klaxons wailed loudly. The ship jolted again, throwing the three of them right off their feet. The whole craft tilted to the right, straightened then tilted left. It repeated the process two more times before settling.

"That's a strange way to attack a ship." Cyclonus mused.

"No." Prime argued. "That wasn't an attack; the ship is walking."

He didn't pay any attention to their stares.

"Walking?" Galvatron's voice finally cracked the silence.

"Hm? Yes." Optimus recalibrated the weapon's firepower, paying the two 'Cons no more mind than a teacher a student.

"This ship is alive?" Cyclonus asked.

"No." Prime replied, still not meeting either of their gazes. "Artificial intelligence. The Inoux will not enslave sapient creatures. It's against their code of conduct."

The ship shuddered and rocked around them again and this time, the shudders were followed by a low grumble of thunder.

"That's the particle cannon." Prime informed them.

"Let's get out of here." Galvatron stepped out first, glancing left then right and made his way right. Cyclonus marched after, followed by Optimus.

But Galvatron found his plan required more guess work than he hoped. Every hall seemed to look the same. The ship's interior resembled more of a network of caves than corridors. Long dark flat panels raced along the walls, serving the Inoux with multifaceted assistance. He laid a hand on one spot and flinched when the entire panel lit all the way down the hall. He frowned and glanced at Prime who seemed more occupied with their surroundings than Galvatron's blundering idiocy. At that moment Galvatron wondered where Prime's head was. Obviously he wasn't concentrating on the problem on hand. Autobots! Galvatron thought to himself.

The ship swayed again, left, right, left. It tilted back a moment then shifted to a hard right, throwing its insecure passengers off their balance. Prime clung to a wall and gazed at Galvatron. He would have made a suggestion, but it didn't happen before he was attacked from nowhere, something hot and sharp slid down his right side. It came so fast, he didn't have time to cry out. He hissed inward and slammed his back against the wall. Cyclonus must have seen the attacker because his rifle waved one direction then the other. He leaned against the wall next to Prime, then Galvatron copied them, glancing left then right. He heard Galvatron snarled something under his breath and the three waited.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

None of them heard or saw anything, but whatever grabbed them came right through the walls and pulled them in.

Prime found himself laying flat on his back. Soft yellow lights met his optics. A slight pain reminded him he had been attacked a while ago. He checked his chronometer, annoyed to find he had been unconscious for all of five hours. But he couldn't tell what day it was. He lay still and listened to his surroundings. A feminine voice echoed instructions somewhere in the background. He could hear transport vehicles rumble over the ground (though, it was funny-sounding). Someone transformed. Then two Quint's voices muttered to one another, approaching. Optimus supposed he should just 'play dead' but by the time he decided what to do, the Quints discovered him.

"Ahh." The first one greeted. "I see our little package has returned to consciousness. Hello, Optimus Prime. Rested comfortably, I assume."

Prime did not reply, did not even look at the Quint.

"Autobots are such benign creatures. At times I'd swear they can almost be cute."

"Osh. Enough with the pleasantries, Roundoosha." The second one admonished. "Autobot, you will comply to the following instructions or we will simply terminate your miserable existence-"

"TKKT T'DGTKT!"

The phrase took Prime completely by surprise. He sought his language database and rerouted the translator.

". . . what was discussed, Kal-Al-Arn?" It was Inoux, no question in Prime's mind. And it was clearly angry. Optimus couldn't decide who was worse, the Inoux, or the Quintessons. One obviously hated the other; and the two worked together to attain a common goal. Well, at least for right now.

The Inoux leapt and landed on the flat Prime laid on. It moved so fast that if Prime hadn't been bound, he would have flinched. Its four legs straddled his body like a spider. And for a brief moment, Prime's laser core froze in subconscious terror. He . . . recalled this somehow; something like this creature with a triangular head that swayed a moment before plunging its head straight into his body and . . . engorging itself on his life force.

"This exists prize." The Inoux snarled at his Quint companions. "If problem, can converse Tax."

"IT is an Autobot leader." Kal-Al-Arn snarled from Prime's right side. "You're asking for trouble just by keeping him here! If it is discovered that we have captured this piece of _g'ugk_ the same spirit that destroyed the Elipsis might destroy us all."

"Shat!" The Inoux laughed. "I know not concern regarding that spirit. As if It did not dish what you did not deserve!"

"How dare you!" Kal-Al-Arn shot back. "You who devour the souls of entire races and use them as slaves!"

"**Chadut!** Never be swift incriminate another species, Quintesson sli'kikik! Those mourn for blood and lifes you take moan across space-time continuum. How many lifes to open the first window? How many other lifes remove for second? How many lifes robbed for new wormhole you plant between largest planets here? If people of yours completes your strategies before the Keeper discovers your ploy, I commend you such great triumphs. But here there are more forces work than your traitorous selves. All universe power disposed at you not save your blow holes from their rage. Only crimes we committed be murder and trespassing. The Keeper not intervene too unkindly. Yours will suffer . . . rumors say Council of Zha'tat'tauch . . ." (Here the Inoux sounded as though it had a hard time pronouncing the word) ". . . considering your imminent demise."

A low rumble sounded in a distance. The two Quints and their Inoux companion stared left and the Inoux swung its head. "**Chadut**! Not again!"

"Fool!" Kal-Al-Arn exclaimed, "Even your great technology cannot detect Humans! The Resistance is back!"

One roar followed another. One collective shout rang across the land and jet engines echoed. Prime could not move. He had no idea what was occurring, except that the explosions and the rumbling were approaching. Laser fire broke out at that point and the stomping of needle-tapered legs thomped across a wooden platform.

Just faintly Optimus heard someone shouting and the words 'blue team' sneaked into his audios. Then someone else shouted "don't kill them!" followed by a short line of cuss words.

Thunder rumbled again and the phrase: "Expeditiousness advised. Counter-resistance, still negotiable." sounded amid all the roar of exchanged fire.

Omega Supreme. The last voice he heard.

They didn't see Omega blast away six 'walking' ships, nor did they see three Destroyer Class Inoux finally step out into the scene. One of them increased its stature to twenty-five feet and begin firing bursts of corrosive acid at their attackers. The human invader made off with six huge wooden crates, eight vehicles and two Quintesson captives. Ships and subs alike withdrew, Omega Supreme remained at the front of the cave as a shield. Then he transformed, pulling base and all alongside his bulky form and shot straight up without clearing the cave's mouth. His departure shook the cavern and blocked part of the entrance, preventing any ships from leaving.

That was until two Inoux folded out from above the cavern ceiling and shot out after their attackers. But by the time they were able to get out, all they saw was the bulk of Omega Supreme disappearing straight into space.

Prime assumed he had blacked out at some point because where he lay, face down, he knew he was not where he was earlier. His sensors refused to activate. Prime knew he lay unconscious.

Muffled voices entered his mind.

No, one voice entered his mind. It did not do so intentionally, and it was not trying to pry. But he heard it.

It was not Rusti.

"NOT INCRIMINATED. CAME WITH. THEY SAID PRIZES. POISON IS CERTAIN. WILL EXTRACT AND REVIVE."

Something warm settled over his back. It sank into his systems and his sensors shot on-line, his form took breath without his permission and his optics kicked into operation.

The warmth lifted and Prime slowly sat up, confused and disoriented. At first he didn't recognize his surroundings, his optic sensors jumped from one unfamiliar face to another until he realized he was sitting in a huge underground cavern, complete with several water and aerial docking bays located under Ireland.

Captain Ingrid Ozborn of Corpus Christi, Texas stood before him, wearing the new EDC issue uniform.

Ingrid smiled and waved at Prime. "Welcome to our humble estate, Optimus Prime!" She heartily greeted.

Before Optimus answered, two Capricorn-class ships appeared from nowhere and landed softly on the platform to the right. Galvatron and Cyclonus stared all around them in awe. They had never seen anything quite like this before.

EDC Colonel Jordan Glassner peeled off his helmet and grinned infectiously. "I think I deserve a raise for this one." He greeted Prime.

"Agreed." Optimus nodded. "How did you pull this off, Colonel?"

"With a lot of 'big' help." He laughed, his dark complexion brightening as more and more of his people poured into the cave. Two Aries-class planes phased in with markings indicating they were from the G.I. Joe department of US Military defense. Eight other ships appeared, all of them wearing the classifications of other countries: Germany, India, Japan, Australia.

Prime glanced to his Decepticon companions and met Galvatron's gaze. "You've been busy." Galvatron noted.

Jordan talked privately with another officer a moment before turning to the three Transformers before him. "We've been monitoring transmissions on the Quintesson wave frequency for the last three days. If you remember, we've been working on this project for the last three years-"

"Yes, Colonel." Optimus interrupted. "But how were you able to interpret what was being said? No Human I'm aware of speaks Quintesson."

Jordan pointed up and to the left toward the rocky cliff sides of the huge cavern. Prime followed Jordan's finger to a dark shape nestled atop a naturally-formed shelf. At first he couldn't see what it was. Galvatron took a step closer, straining to make it out.

Then the dark shape moved its head; a triangular-shaped piece of work that tapered out behind its skull. One thin pencil leg lifted and pierced the ground. It was as silent as a spider in her web, and as unnerving.

"What the hell . . ." Prime's voice trailed off.

"It came to us." Jordan answered. "Speaks English. It told us they have been watching us for several months before making their first move. I still can't catch its name. But it hasn't led us wrong."

Galvatron set his fists on his hips. "I know Humans like to keep pets, but this is absurd."

Jordan glanced at him. "It certainly is. It was the one who helped us make the attack when we learned that the Quintessons had you. We weren't aware of Cyclonus."

Prime and Galvatron exchanged a glance. Then Optimus gazed back at Jordan. "Were you aware of Galvatron?"

"Well, yes." Jordan answered slowly. "The three of you were in some kind of stasis. We were simply going to kill Galvatron, but the Inoux told us the Decepticons were with you on Mars. I don't know how it knows-"

"The Inoux share one another's memories." Prime replied and as he spoke a swift tapping sounded and the next minute, the Inoux joined them. Its sudden appearance distressed Prime so that he flinched and stepped away.

It was behavior Optimus did not want to display, but his reaction happened before he thought of it.

"MEMORY SAYS DESTRUCTION ON MARS." The Inoux announced. "MANY SHIPS FLED. THREE GONE."

Galvatron stepped closer to Prime. "You're saying three Autobot vessels were destroyed?"

"SAD."

"Why are you helping us?" Prime asked directly. "Won't your people know?"

"LEFT. NO RECONCILIATION BETWEEN ONE VALUE AND ANOTHER."

"You left them because you didn't agree with what they were doing?" It had been a long time since Prime heard the Inoux's way of speaking. Even in Autobot, they had a hard time using the same vocabulary. The Inoux were a species of geniuses, but small talk escaped them.

"MUCH DO HERE. RAISE FIGHTING. OTHER PLACE NEXT."

Galvatron and Prime stared at Captain Ingrid at the same time. But Galvatron opened his mouth first.

"What other place? What's it talking about?"

"Fort Max." Ingrid answered plainly. "We've been picking up a distress call for the last three days. But when we heard they had you, we changed plans."

"How soon will you be ready to move out?" Optimus asked quietly.

"In about two days. We may not be entirely prepared. Some of our ships were taken out by those damnedable walkers."

Prime knelt before the girl, now having lost all trepidation over the Inoux. "Galvatron and I will accompany you-"

"Not necessary." Jordan brushed. "We're big boys, we can do this."

"True. But I'm the only one here who knows anything about Fort Max."

"It's obliterated, Prime. The city's been uprooted, believe me. The Quints phased in some kind of freak creature that bore holes into the EDC district and the Southwest side."

"Perhaps." Optimus answered. "But if Rodimus managed to shut the city itself off, Max might still be operable."

Jordan stared at him a moment longer. "Well, it's your call then, Prime."

The Resistance fighters labored far into the night and late the next day preparing for departure. Optimus learned Australia's Fort Sonix had been shredded, its remains either dismantled and melted into new material or sold to other places. Much of Earth's precious resources were used to help create the gigantic warp gate between Jupiter and Saturn.

"It must be an impressive sight." Galvatron marveled.

"From what we have heard, yes." Ingrid answered softly. She gazed out the window aboard the **Expenditure** and her expression turned sad. Optimus assumed instantly someone close to her might have been enslaved to work there.

"What kind of people are working on that project?" The Autobot leader asked quietly.

Ingrid turned back, fire lighting her eyes. "Who do you think? Anything that survived the holocaust. It's always the survivors who suffer a worse fate than those who died. Everything is lost, gone."

Optimus nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry Ingrid-"

"Look, spare me the clichés. I'm on my own now. Everything I knew and loved is lost. All I have is vengeance."

Galvatron gave her a cat's smile. "Be sure when you strike, you strike hard and fast. Be sure you strike true. What you dish out, will be three times what you get back. All of them painful."

Captain Ingrid could not look at either of them. Her eyes sought the window overlooking a drab world covered in darkness and death.

They took the underwater route first, moving from Ireland to the Atlantic coastline of Maryland. In the matter of 5 hours, they docked and sent a group out for reconnaissance. They brought back news of Quintesson occupation and slave labor hard at work on a series of new buildings and bad tidings of more devastation.

Prime took it all into account. It meant there were more survivors than he originally thought. He remained silent as the forces moved out of the harbor and around the Florida straights.

Prime counted a total of five hours before someone tapped him on the arm. He silently activated his optics. Evil dreams haunted him and Prime reminded himself Rusti and Rodimus were safe and he would soon be with them.

A clanking sounded to his left and Prime faced three tall exo-suits, inhabited by Humans. Even with the suits, the Humans barely reached fifteen feet. They systematically double-checked their gear and weapons array. The exo-suits, nothing like the prototype Rusti used, were new 'toys' developed in Germany not more than a year ago. They too were under the experimental stage and Optimus dared not ask the Resistance how they got their hands on them under Quintesson noses.

Galvatron stepped up and fingered his chin. "Cyborgs!" He decided. "The Humans are trying to look like us."

Prime smiled and stood. "Be nice about it." He warned quietly.

"Bah! They'll never reach our status." Galvatron snarled. "We're much better looking!"

Ingrid joined them a moment later, wearing standard EDC armor. She set her hands on her hips. "What do you guys think?"

Prime and Galvatron stared at her and she suddenly felt naked in front of both Transformers. She swallowed hard, trying not to look nervous. Galvatron nodded.

"Canned Human. Might be an interesting commodity." He turned and made his way to the hatch.

Optimus quietly laughed, trying not to be rude. Ingrid crossed her arms, a surprised smile creased her face.

"I didn't know Decepticons thought so well of us."

Prime glanced toward Galvatron's way, then back at his Human companion. "Perhaps more than you and I thought."

Optimus and Galvatron disembarked first. They agreed to scout about and determine whether or not guards and/or scavengers inhabited the area. Galvatron took to the air, but promised to keep low to the ground to avoid detection. Prime scanned the outskirts of Fort Max, checking for ship engine vibrations and radiation spikes. Sadistic evidence left by the Quints and their minions marred what remained of the huge city. Optimus tried not to allow himself emotional involvement. He pressed forward, tracking several yards across the wasteland of what was once a breath-taking city.

Upon seeing nothing for fifteen minutes, the two Transformers signaled a 'clear' to the Resistance and they lowered their shields and touched down just outside of Fort Max. Six teams of twelve men began a systematic search through the ruins of Autobot City.

"Gods." Ingrid breathed. "Look at this place. Looks like the Quints really had it in for Fort Max."

"Keep the chatter on lower frequencies, Captain." Jordan admonished. "We don't want anyone picked up via transmission signals."

Galvatron and Cyclonus traveled north-west, unknowingly headed toward the R and D District. Never having seen the city before the destruction, the two Decepticons did not take notice how the football stadium was uprooted and burned to a cinder. They didn't see the communications center smashed to a fine sand-like substance. Nor did they realize Topside now lay folded over the western side of the city like a broken wooden block, the great support pillars stood ominous amid the ruins.

In the distance, Galvatron could hear someone crying out how she found Blurr's body, fragmented. A report calling over the Resistance's intracom regarded the melted remains of three Autobots lying along a roadside.

Prime made a bee line for what was once Central Command. He paid no attention to the Humans' chatter as they swept the area, looking for anything either salvageable or alive. Prime knew they would find either very few survivors or nothing at all.

Captain Jordan used his power pack to catch up with the Autobot leader. His helmet informed him of slow radiation leaks and several plasma fires still smoldering in the cold Oregon night.

"I can't detect Central Command." Jordan quipped just to talk.

"You're standing on it." Optimus replied ever so quietly.

Jordan flinched as though he were stepping on someone's grave. The rubble under him; bulkheads and metal walls, Autobots and Humans alike who worked here were all crushed underneath. The captain softly cursed. "It will take a decade to clean this up."

Prime knew he was trying to sound cheerful. But Optimus had seen places like this before. Rebuilding would have to wait longer than a decade. They would have to take Earth back first. They would have to obliterate every last Quintesson lord before beginning to consider reconstruction. And inwardly, Optimus wondered if all that pain, all that effort, would really be worth anything at all. His gaze probed the ruins, searching hopelessly for one tiny plant from his private garden that might have survived the destruction. But in the dark he saw nothing.

"Yellow team reporting," Captain Yanger called over the comline.

"Go ahead, Dave." Jordan cleared.

"You won't believe the amount of fluids this city lost! It's like a lake here! There must have been a really ugly battle."

Jordan glanced at Prime. "Oh? Why's that?"

"We've found several dead Quints, a couple of dead Inoux -and one was Assassin Class. There's a nasty drop here on a ledge. Part of the city here sank right into the ground. The other part has fallen off a cliff." Dave fell quiet a moment then came back with: "We're getting high concentrations of gamma life-force readings here. A lot of Autobot markings . . ."

"Rodimus." Prime whispered softly.

"No bodies, though. Seems a rescue party came and left. Lieutenant O'Leery spotted a huge hole not more than half a mile from here. She says there's some kind of freak creature, looks like a worm of sorts. It's dead, though. I dunno. Looks freaky."

"Diggers." Prime muttered. "Jordan, I'm heading to the EDC district."

"You can't go alone. That's the policy."

Optimus merely stared him down and walked off. Jordan shook his head. "Thanks, Dave. Keep me informed." And he followed the Autobot leader.

The damage done to Fort Max was such that Prime felt as though he were walking in his own grave. Most of Topside lay crumbled like broken pottery. The roadways between the two levels were obliterated. Nothing was left of the fountain standing between the EDC district and Central.

Inwardly, the Autobot leader sighed and resigned himself to the task at hand. He and Jordan walked down the steps, neither of them made a sound.

Bodies lay everywhere; the Quints and Inoux systematically pulled people and robots alike to the outside and tore their bodies asunder. The cafeteria lay wasted, fragments of walls served to remind Optimus of what was once a common ground between two species of people. Three towering buildings that served as living quarters for two thousand Humans stood as naught but blackened wreckage. Smoldering sparks of several plasma fires peeked through gaps and negative spaces.

Jordan looked away, his face twisted in horror and sorrow. He hoped the death count wasn't as bad as it looked. But even that hope, tiny and useful as lint, flew away in the wind of despair. The captain swallowed his tears when Optimus Prime silently pressed forward.

Amid all this, Optimus still moved on, still retained his courage and Jordan drew a deep breath, tasting the stench of death and vaporized metal. He followed the Autobot's posture. Optimus said nothing. But his actions spoke more loudly than any pep speech Jordan ever heard: Everything is gone, but keep going.

Prime led his Human companion to what was the security entrance of the EDC district. They passed through what was a hallway (the roof had been blown off) and there Optimus paused, glancing around.

In the dark, Jordan could see very little. Even with night vision provided by his visor, only rubble and damaged bulkheads met his eyes.

Prime silently pointed left and Jordan thought the Autobot was giving him directions. Actually, Optimus almost didn't recognize the District and had to recall which way the Comm Center was located. He was fully aware of his companion's presence and intentionally walked slowly so as not to loose Jordan. He led the Human to a site leveled by laser blasts. Prime lifted three tons of damaged bulkhead and shoved it to the right, uncovering a hallway entrance.

Jordan recognized the Comm Center, having been through channels just to attain permission to visit alien ambassadors on Upper Level. But he had no idea this was sitting under the Comm Center! His wide eyes spoke for the surprise he could not utter.

"What . . . what's this, Prime?" He whispered.

"A back-up system." Optimus quietly returned.

Jordan flinched slightly, surprised Prime bothered to answer him at all. He followed the Autobot leader's descent into gloom. The corridor walls were scraped and tainted with Autobot blood. Quintesson slime, blood and Autobot tire marks marred the floor surface. And upon entering a room brooding in darkness, Jordan's night vision revealed several Quintesson bodies and two Inoux. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Autobot blood lay in undried puddles.

Optimus moved across the console, finding much of it damaged. He groaned and muttered something in his own language before kneeling before the console and unlatched a plate. He examined the interior and found one wire cable. Prime followed it with his finger until it disappeared behind another plate.

"Ahh." He whispered. He unlatched the plate in front of that and found the wire tip burned to a crisp. Prime flipped the plate over, finding the very button Rusti had punched before the Quints discovered her presence.

"Good work, Rodimus." Prime whispered softly.

Jordan shook his head, puzzled. "What is this all about?" He demanded.

Optimus finally looked at him. "The back-up plan." He replied simply. "Rodimus and I planned a back-up system in case of emergencies."

"Like this? You knew the Quints were going to attack?"

"No. Not on this scale. Not at this level of destruction. And certainly not with such power. They took us completely by surprise." Prime set the plate against the damaged console and took to his feet. "We knew the Quints would eventually get brave enough to enter Earth space and attack the city directly. But since we couldn't predict the exact time, we reorganized Max, the city's personality and computer system in two levels. The first level was an omniscient consciousness on the first two levels of the city itself. The other consciousness would act as a back-up system that activates only under emergency conditions, downloading all information into an underground bunker."

Jordan blinked several times. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Prime. But reports said that there were creatures that drilled into Fort Max from underground."

"Right. But the bunker isn't here. It's on the other side of Suicide Cliffs."

Jordan allowed himself a small smile. "What now?"

Prime sighed heavily. "Now we go through Central City and search for survivors."

The Resistance rendezvoused in a cavern ten miles south-west of Fort Max. Several team leaders brought their reports and insights to the situation, many of them strongly advising against any kind of enemy infiltration. Jordan and Ingrid listened to all sides of the debate reflecting as much emotion as the three Transformers presently sitting towards the cavern entrance. The team leaders spoke against Galvatron's presence name at least five times and many suspicious gazes shot the former Decepticon leader. Galvatron met their wary looks with a cat's smile, knowing too well what they were thinking. But he and Cyclonus were unarmed, thereby vulnerable to any laser fire. And Optimus would, at this point, vouch for their behavior.

Finally the debates died and Jordan took to his feet. "This is most certainly a precarious position. On one hand, we may have a facility available for the taking. On the other, we have an Inouxian mother ship hovering above Central City just itching to zap whatever moves. I say we risk it. So far, our timing and coordination has been flawless-"

"But we are gambling." EDC Colonel Yearta shot back. "Sooner or later our luck will run out and we will be laid wasted by the Quintesson lords. I say we turn back, forget this insane idea, no matter how promising this so-called facility might be."

EDC officials, survivors and trainees alike muttered to one another, a soft wave of communication that rose and fell like the slow swelling waves in an ocean ripe for the oncoming storm. Optimus watched this procession, painfully aware where this debate was leading. The Resistance came here only on reconnaissance. Back in Ireland, morale was low, living off of victorious raids and an enthusiastic facade. Many of them were tired of the fighting and scraping every drop to survive beyond the next night. He knew the bunker would solve many of their problems. The Resistance stood at the precarious balance between moving on, however weary, and simply giving in to despair.

"What does the Autobot leader suggest?" One pompous loud-mouthed marine challenged. Enough people heard him to turn to Prime in silence. Now they looked to him for sound advice, for some kind of comfort, some kind of assurance.

Optimus could not count how many times in his life he had been in this position. "You cannot hope to win this war." He stated simply. And that was met with sneers and frowns. "Those that have attacked your world did so for a special reason. They knew where and when to hit us. The only thing you can do at this point is survive. Whether it's to the next day, or to the next decade."

Prime stood from the wall "The Quintesson lords themselves are here. They have brought with them an ally sworn to work for a common cause. We don't have a clear idea what that goal is. And your forces are scarcely enough to match the Inoux."

"And what do you suggest we do about the Inoux, Prime?" Mr. Loud Mouth called again. "Shall we write an eviction notice and charge them for rent on our planet?"

His crass words were met with some nervous laughter. But what he said really wasn't that funny.

Optimus' silence made them uncomfortable and some squirmed where they stood or sat. "The bunker was designed for this kind of situation. However, we did not plan on the Quintessons engaging an alliance with these creatures . . ." Prime paused a moment, drawing Galvatron's attention. ". . . your only chance against the Quintessons and the Inoux is survival. Your drive should be to rescue others who have survived to this point. You owe it to those who have managed under their own power. You owe them a chance to keep going."

Jordan eyed the Autobot with puzzlement. "So, you're saying this bunker, being so close to the mother ship, is the answer we need?"

"It has facilities you don't have. Supplies, a medical facility, raw materials, weapons, food, storage units . . . " Optimus didn't need to say anything more. He finally found hope in a few faces before him.

Ingrid stepped forward. "I agree with Optimus. I think we should search for survivors. After all, we would be right under the Quint's noses and that would be the last place they'd bother looking."

Galvatron smiled at her. Brilliant reasoning. How many times had the Autobot forces pulled the same prank on him?

"What does the Decepticon say?" Yearta challenged.

Galvatron hesitated, his optics bounced from one person to another. "If there be two things I have learned from your species it's the frailty of your construction. How mighty your instinct to survive. If you were in a city cast in ruins, would you not hope for someone to come and rescue you? Optimus Prime is right. Now is not the time to fight, but to survive. Live to fight another time."

The room fell disturbingly silent. Optimus could almost hear them thinking. Then Jordan swung his arms up and dropped them. "What would you suggest we do, Prime?" He asked.

Optimus was waiting for that. "I suggest a team be sent into Central city. Another team should remain at Fort Max to secure the grounds and seek for possible survivors. The last team should take the bunker."

Ingrid stepped forward. "I and whomever wishes to volunteer will remain in Fort Max and set parameter camp."

Yearta frowned. "I'll accompany anyone who decides to stake out Central City."

Jordan nodded. "I shall take the bunker. Those opposed can either remain here or return to Ireland."

Eight people volunteered for the Central City search. Galvatron also volunteered as firepower back-up. Cyclonus chose to stay with Ingrid at Fort Max. Optimus had a personal stake in mind and chose to lead the Central City expedition. He suggested traveling up Autobot River right into Cascade Lake sitting west of Central City.

Becky Jovone strapped on her gear then turned to the Autobot leader. "Sir, why not trek through the woods toward Central city? They're less likely to detect us than if we were to raft our way upstream."

Optimus smiled at her. "Inoux rarely consider water a threat. They think more in terms of land and conventional travel since they have no water where they come from. They will not post guards along the river and lake. But the Quintessons will post a patrol along the pass way between Fort Max and Central City trust me, this is the best way to go."

Galvatron agreed it was a good idea, but he didn't like the idea of skimming over water on a mere board-even less so at night. Prime assured him it wasn't as difficult as it looked. He only received a glare. Reluctantly, however, the former Decepticon leader complied, knowing his emission trails might be echoed by the water and detected by Quintesson scanners.

"And how long will it take to reach Central City?"

"About an hour." The Autobot leader answered. He double checked his equipment then waited for their Human companions.

The river churned in a dark mood. Water lapped at the edges, the little ripples bounced back and forth, a pale moon kissed their crests. The surrounding brush and trees and the cold autumn air made even those wearing protective exo-suits shudder with imaginary chills.

They skimmed along the water in the dead of night. Optimus led, followed by Galvatron. The Decepticon kept his balance and timing in perfect rhythm, his optics shooting back and forth between the Autobot leader and their Human companions. Small fluffy clouds assailed over the waxing moon as they made their way upriver. Prime's and Galvatron's metal bodies gleamed cold and dark, reflecting light cast by moon and water. Their optics glowed eerily, betraying their non-organic bodies.

A splash sounded to his left and before Galvatron could find what caused the sound, his hydrofoil toppled and over he went.

The Decepticon was shocked by the water's depth. He and Prime stood thirty feet high . . . the river must be at least forty or fifty feet deep! Something tried to rend his leg as he struggled toward the surface. But Galvatron's exostructure was designed to resist even Grimlock's terrible jaws.

That didn't mean the impact didn't hurt. He kicked his attacker with his good foot then produced his weapon from subspace.

But the Sharkticon blew up before Galvatron had the chance to fire.

Prime, obviously also sabotaged by their attackers, appeared behind the Shark's carcass. The two swam topside, finding themselves caught in a crossfire between Sharks and Humans. Galvatron's board popped up beside him and he smashed it against two on-coming Cons.

Bam.

Bam.

Bam.

One Shark bought it right after another as Optimus fired his weapon. Galvatron pointed his weapon at three of their companions and blew away two Sharks encroaching behind them.

The Humans stared at the Shark bodies then back at Galvatron who smiled, very pleased with himself.

"Sharks . . . hardly a challenge!" He declared.

Unfortunately for the former Decepticon leader, the rest of their journey was not so exciting. They moved on, hoping their little venture with the Sharkticons would not rouse unwelcome curiosity. They shut off the 'boogey boards' and allowed the river current to carry them out to the lake.

Central City's once crowded shores stood dead silent in the night. Docking bays that bore the weight of tourists, sea vessels and traders now stood uneasily peaceful. Prime led his companions from the water to the solid steel docking bay and glanced all around.

Shops and businesses lay decimated. Prime remembered how busy the port used to be. He remembered hearing thousands of conversations going at once. The vacant streets cried out to him, echoing the same emptiness that filled his soul.

Galvatron stood silently beside him, noting not the emptiness that Prime saw, but the devastation and ruin. Not one building stood. Not one boat was left without laser marks. Not one person or living thing stirred from the ground.

And it stank.

"They're all dead." Prime mourned.

"You could not have helped them." Galvatron answered in the stillness.

Optimus shot him a sharp glare.

"No." Galvatron insisted. "You would have been killed or taken prisoner, also. Was there not an Autobot base here?"

Feebly, the Autobot leader nodded.

"And they could do nothing." Galvatron added. "If they, being such a number, could not help, how could you expect to do more?" He nodded toward the rotted flesh of the dead, "They died living. That was their crime. Your crime was helplessness. All you can do, is save their children."

Prime stared at the ruins. Galvatron pressed ahead and Prime wished he had the strength of Galvatron's indifference.

"Come along!" the Decepticon called, "We have survivors to find!"

Becky glared in his direction, staying close to Prime. "What does he care?" She snarled through their comlink.

"It's a personal thing to him, now." Optimus answered softly.

"How so? He never cared before. And why do you trust him so blindly?"

Optimus gazed at her. "Because he could have killed me several opportunities before. I suspect that whatever trauma Galvatron suffered to return here, it was enough to shake sense into him."

Becky frowned. "Are you always so blind toward people?"

"Everyone deserves another chance, Becky. As long as there is life, there is hope."

"Even for a criminal?"

Optimus smiled gravely. "I hope that when I make grave mistakes, someone else would also believe in me. That's why I'm giving Galvatron this chance. It doesn't mean I trust him blindly, it means I'm giving him the benefit of a doubt."

The group traveled about half a mile inland, finding a landscape completely redesigned by the Quints. The foothills surrounding Central City were carved inward. Whatever weapon was used to obliterate the city, took liberty to wipe a twenty-foot wall naked of tree and grass.

The sight of Central City's ruins forced Prime to stop in his tracks and his companions all copied his movements. Floating a good mile above the town hovered the Inouxian mother ship, suspended like some kind of glowing jellyfish. The air traffic around the ship came and left to and from the ruins. Even at the tender hour of 1 A.M., air traffic was heavy.

In the midst of the town sat a huge, brightly lit arena. Just faintly Prime and Galvatron could hear the roar of a cheering crowd.

Becky stepped between the two robots and used her visor to give her a closer view. "Looks like a game is being played over there. Look at what they've done to the city!"

"Quintesson games." Galvatron sneered softly. "Despicable."

"Yes." Optimus agreed with as quiet a tone, "However, it might be the perfect set up for us." He didn't like to think what kind of entertainment the Quints were providing for their comrades. And the Autobot leader resolutely shut out memories of the attack on Fort Zenith.

The group continued silently. Aliens and Gobots occupied the ruined city like jackals playing round the carcass of some dead animal.

"This is good." the former Decepticon leader declared. "I've always wanted to sneak around a city on Earth."

"And if we get caught?" Optimus asked.

Galvatron glanced over his shoulder. "We'll just say it's your fault. We didn't pay anything for your tourist guide skills."

They agreed the Humans would advance first since Galvatron and Prime would make obvious targets. Times like these made Optimus wish he could change down to Human size. They advanced into the heart of the city, their senses and scanners alert to every little noise around them. The Humans moved forward with some uneasiness and Prime realized Galvatron had fallen back.

The Autobot turned to his companion and was surprised to find the Decepticon glancing about, a sadness-an honest sadness crossing his features. Optimus did not know whether or not he should ask Galvatron what bothered him. Their relationship seemed too new for an expression of concern to surface; but Optimus was concerned.

Galvatron spotted Prime staring at him and the Decepticon forced a loped smile to twist his lying face. "Reminds me of home, I'd guess." He answered Prime's unspoken question. "All the messes that . . ." He turned away, the smile died on his lip components. ". . . has to always be cleaned up after . . . a fight."

Shame accompanied those last few words. Honest shame. Optimus gave Galvatron a lighter look, but it was not a smile. "We'll send the cleaning bill to the Quintessons."

"Heh!" Galvatron's smile widened like a cavern then died again. "They never pay their bills." He stomped on, the rubble crunching under his boots. Optimus followed with a cautionary glance backward.

They crossed through the outer lying neighborhoods, passing house after house, finding the dead crushed, burned, decapitated, or shot. Whatever it took to kill people, the Quintessons and Inoux executed their invasion with finality. Optimus decided Galvatron was right. Even if he had been here, there would have been nothing he could have done. Rodimus was every bit as good a leader as he and this still happened. Fort Max, Fort Sonix, Central City . . . all gone. And Optimus now recalled the news cast he received on Mars.

This startled him because for the past several days, Prime had been unable to recall much of anything. His life seemed more like a nightmare, his consciousness acted as if the past few days were an unreality, swept away with the alarm clock in the early hours of the day.

But he now remembered the news . . . Montana, Utah, Alaska, New Jersey, Dakota . . . Metroplex . . .

And Galvatron's laughter trailed in the disquieting autumn morning breeze. Prime found the others moved on while he stared at the ruined houses and yards. He dashed to catch up with them as Galvatron tore off a poster of sheet metal bolted to the only standing wall of a church. He handed the sheet to Optimus as he arrived and cackled with amusement.

Prime stared at a wanted poster, his own face etched clearly on its surface. "They must know we're here in the area." He frowned.

"It doesn't even look like you." Galvatron joked. "It looks better!"

Optimus eyed him without looking up. "Very funny."

They searched through the small hours of the morning until the sky lightened and they were forced to take refuge within the collapsed halls of Central City's Forest Lane two-story mall. The Humans took time to eat and rest while Optimus and Galvatron traded lookout posts. The sight of ruins, the smells of death and obliteration sobered the Humans to the point of wordlessness. Two of their companions could not even eat, so sick were they from silent grief.

Galvatron sighed and stared into the far distance. Debris fields were nothing new to him. On or off Cybertron, they all seemed to look the same after a while. At least, the Decepticon thought, I did not cause this one.

He allowed himself a slight smile before spotting movement just south by southwest of his location. "Found something." He informed his companions. Instantly three Humans rushed to his side but Optimus took his time arriving.

Becky gazed at the two Transformers who shrank in size just enough to top the fifteen-foot exo-suits. "What do you guys think?"

"Scutzoids." Galvatron automatically sneered.

"Survivors." Optimus offered.

"Scutzoids scurry about in such a manner. Always shifting and dashing to and fro." The Decepticon countered.

"Perhaps." Prime accepted. "But so would a Human if hunted by scavengers or killers."

"Alright." Becky set her suit on auto scan. "I'm taking Yarez and Doldon. Gannings, Yearta and Mornorn will stay here."

"Very well, but try to stay within a five-mile radius." Prime cautioned. "Any further than that and we will not be able to quickly reach you."

She tossed him a smile. "I'm a big girl."

Nearly twenty minutes passed. An unsettled silence hung in the air and Optimus had to use a great deal of self-control to keep from dashing outside to search for Becky.

"It's grown quiet. Something's wrong." Galvatron said over the internal communicators.

"I know." Prime answered solemnly. "I'm going out there."

"Send one of the Humans."

"Not when I can do it myself." Optimus argued.

"They can be replaced. You cannot."

"As if they're recyclable?" Prime snarled over the communication link.

Galvatron remained quiet for a long moment then: "Yes." He replied evenly. "You are an Autobot leader. They are not."

A sound argument, Prime had to admit. But he wasn't going to take the advice of a Decepticon who considered life a thing to be used and tossed aside. Prime silently slipped away from the safety of the building, their companions heard nothing.

Galvatron frowned. "Autobots!" he growled.

Prime picked his way about the wreckage. Ruined buildings and cars did not populate the area as much as the dead bodies and Optimus knew sooner or later disease would set in. How like the Quintessons to ignore such dangers! If those who survived the cataclysm didn't die of injuries, starvation, deprivation or shock, they would most likely die of disease propagating from the dead.

Pain sharply struck him from behind and Prime slammed face-first into a crumbling wall. He turned and scampered backward as a black spider-like creature aimed for him again. Prime swept up the stem of what was a flag pole and held it like a lance. The spider-like thing had disappeared, however and left the Autobot a little unnerved.

"Foolish. Foolish. Come back to play. Only end up dead. Maybe worse. Worse. Come. Set you out of misery. Painlessly die."

The energon in his system ran cold. Optimus thought he knew that voice, that same voice, ancient and merciless. It took him a moment to compose himself. "Come out here, if you feel you are superior." He ordered.

"Tak, tak, tak. They dance a simple tune." From the corner of a damaged bank stretched one pencil-thin leg. A body followed it, no outlines, just a terrible black shape of legs and a torso, a thorax and a triangular head and a long deadly tail. "Come, Optimus. End life quietly. Give your blood. Join others knowing peace another life. Come. Come." It tapped toward him, one long dark leg followed another. The body stepped over this and that. The squared tail flowed and snaked. Prime could not move. It filled his soul. It projected into him, calling him by a soothing warm tone, though the Destroyer Class now said nothing at all.

The blurred image of an attacker shot across the way and slammed hard into the Inoux, crushing it into the nearby brick building. It screeched and shrieked, infuriated. But the motion and the noise shook Prime out of his trance and he leapt to assist his rescuer.

Galvatron grabbed hold of one leg and might have succeeded in breaking it off, had the creature not tried to spit at him. That proved advantageous for Optimus, however. The moment the Inoux opened its maw, Prime plunged the pole in and through the back of its head. The alien crumpled in Galvatron's arms.

The two said nothing as they stared at the body of a creature more powerful than either of them. Finally Optimus allowed his frame to relax and he turned to Galvatron. "I owe you-"

"Nothing." Galvatron interrupted. "Nothing at all."

"Galvatron-"

"No. You owe me nothing." The Decepticon stared at him, red optics cool, "You are here because . . ." He found he could not finish it. He could not bring himself to say it. Galvatron turned away then forcibly turned back to stared at Prime in the optics again. "You are here because I believed in your character. Nothing less."

Gravel crunched under the tiny metal-shod feet of Human exo-suits. Both Transformers turned as Yarez and Doldon dragged another figure with them. Clad in make-shift armor, the figure did not put up a fight.

"We found her nearby Becky's body." Yarez snarled. "Becky is dead."

Prime and Galvatron glanced at one another again before turning their gazes toward the center Humanoid figure.

The female's voice surprised Prime, "I didn't kill her." She snarled, "A monster did." She removed her helm and Prime visibly flinched.

"Dezi!" He gasped softly.

Her eyes fell upon the dark beast and nodded in its direction. "There will be more of them. You're welcome to come stay with us for a while."

"We came looking for you, Human." Galvatron answered. "We have far more to offer."

Dezi's eyes stared into a distance. Optimus could tell she suffered traumatic shock. "Dezi, if there are other survivors, I suggest we get them to safety. The sooner we move, the better."

She mutely nodded. "You'll have to come with me. I can't tell you where we are. Sometimes the buildings have eyes and ears."

"Are you . . . alone, Dezi?" Optimus asked, meaning her family.

Dezi turned away, not daring to glance back. "No." She whispered.

They returned to Gannings, Yearta and Mornorn who expressed their concern in angry words. But neither the Autobot nor the Decepticon bothered to answer their demands. All four Humans started to question Dezi about Becky's death, but Optimus felt it was not the time and put a stop to it.

It wasn't easy following Dezi Witwicky through the debris. She crept and scampered the ruins like a mouse in a junk yard, almost as if she had lived there all her life. More than once, Galvatron and Prime had to use scanners as the young woman slipped in and about fallen buildings, over smashed cars and shredded bodies in a north-eastern direction from the mall.

Once they approached Akira Avenue, Dezi silently pointed for Doldon where Becky's form lay slumped across the obliterated body of a '25 Mercury Titan ATV. He checked Becky for life signs and shook his head, indicating the woman was indeed dead.

Optimus sadly watched his Human companions struggle to deal with the death of their friend.

They traveled close to what was once the zoo and Prime's spirit sank. He loved Central City. He loved the buildings, the people and the culture.

Now it was all gone. He paused as the others passed him, their minds already occupied with the death of one person. Optimus concerned himself with the death of two cities. Privately he longed to grieve but found he could not. If it was shock, he hoped it would not wear off for a long time.

Galvatron insisted he kept watch outside while everyone else followed the young woman. Dezi led them to the ruins of the county library and downstairs into a dimly-lit basement. Water slowly seeped from cracked walls and support beams moaned under the weight of upper floors. Optimus was careful not to hit or contact anything that looked too fragile. He knew just by examining the surroundings the little hideout would not last.

"Dezi!" Another familiar voice cried out as Prime stepped in. Dezi was greeted by a crippled form of a woman. Her shredded clothes flitted in the wind of her movement as she raced for embracement.

"I'm okay, Mom." Dezi's voice remained level. "I think we've been rescued."

It took one glance at Prime and Netty broke into tears. She covered her face as another woman came up and guided her away with soft words and a gentle touch. Dezi sighed as her iron-clad self-control kicked in. She lifted her chin slightly and raised her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Everybody, listen up! We're leaving right now. EDC has come to take us to a refuge. I want everyone who can walk help those who can't. Pack up what you have. Let's go!"

"Dez . . . Dez . . ." the bent shape of a man staggered toward her, holding a piece of tattered paper in his hand. "I got it, Dez, jus like you said! Just like you said!"

Optimus read a gasp in Dezi's face, though she made no noise. She whisked up a dirty coat and laid it across the injured man's shoulders as the EDC officers combed through the basement to help survivors gather their precious belongings.

"Uncle Jax, you promised me you'd take a nap." Dezi's eyes shot at Prime and she shook her head, indicating she didn't want any questions right now.

"But it's here." The man sat when she produced a rickety chair for him. His form trembled, one arm clung uselessly to his body, a deep gash bled red and white with infection. "This is where the water was, Dezi."

Dezi lifted his face and Prime cringed at the pitiful sight of Jax Tolomsky. Wounded and obviously bewildered, Jax's whole world seemed to include nothing more than attention toward Dezi.

Dezi lifted her chin and kissed him between the eyes. "We're going right now, Uncle Jax. I found somebody who can take care of your arm."

He stared at her with dry, empty eyes. "My arm?" he asked. "Will they have water, Dez? We need water."

She nodded fervently. "Yes."

"That's my girl!" His hollow eyes reflected pride.

But Dezi turned away, her self control crumbled like a house of crackers and tears marked tracks down her dirty cheeks.

Prime knelt and wiggled his finger for her to approach. She patted Jax on the arm and promised to be right back. Dezi wiped her face as she came and took a deep breath amid the smelly room.

"Dezi," Prime said softly. "Perhaps it's best I transport everyone. We can't wait for an air lift. We're not that far from the river."

She shook her head. "It's dangerous. Even if there are none of those freak spider-like things, there's still Sharkticons and several other weird things prowling about-"

"We have no time for debate." Optimus softly interjected. "We must get you and your people out of here."

Her eyes slowly peeled from him to those survivors who tried to gather their things and assist someone else as fast as their broken spirits and torn bodies allowed. Dezi mutely nodded. "I'll-I'll tell my Mom and get Jax ready."

Prime turned back to Tolomsky and wondered what horrors the former city Chief of Police must have suffered to be in such a condition. Even hearts made of steel crack under duress, the Autobot leader thought gloomily. He was there, just like that, many times in his life.

But only the lucky ones ever manage to pull through.

Galvatron moved on ahead of Prime, clearing a path straight to the river. They kept careful watch for aliens. Doldon, Yearta and Yarez followed Prime, keeping close watch for ambush.

Optimus kept scanning every inch of the way, very much surprised they had not been either attacked or discovered as yet. Roller scampered and skidded all about them, sometimes nearly running into an annoyed Galvatron who said nothing. It bleeped, keeping a five-minute communiqué with Optimus. It seemed something was amiss; the whole thing just didn't feel right.

Dezi, Jax and Netty rode in the cab while the other survivors rode in the trailer. Dezi broke out a first aid kit Prime produced from under the seat and cleaned Jax's infected wound as well as she could. She wrapped it carefully and gently cleaned his face with a gauze pad.

Netty stared out the driver's side window, her vacant eyes assessed the devastation with no reaction. Her arms remained firmly tucked under one another. At the point, of one familiar setting, she swallowed hard.

"That's my job." She murmured. "All gone. All gone." She bit her lower lip, struggling to keep away the tears. But one escaped her control and she forced air into her lungs and threw her eyes elsewhere.

"Prime." She called, her voice wavy with emotion. "Where were you? Didn't you know we were under attack?"

"Not until it was too late, Netty." Prime answered quietly.

"Too late?"

"Transmissions from Earth do not reach Mars. We lost contact with Cybertron. We were stranded."

She wrinkled her brows, having no idea what he was talking about. "But . . . subspace . . ."

Dezi glanced at her mother, "The satellites are down, Mom."

Netty drew another deep breath. "What about Daniel?" She asked, her voice a little stronger.

"I don't know." Optimus answered with the same leveled voice.

"What do you mean you don't know?" She nearly snapped. "Didn't you get any messages at all?"

"No, Netty. But Arcee's body hasn't been found, either."

"What's she got to do with it?" Netty's face wrinkled in near disgust.

Dezi sighed impatiently. "Mom, don't start anything."

"Well, what about Resonna, or Brian?"

"Rusti is with Rodimus." Prime answered. "I don't know anything about Brian."

Netty huffed and rolled her eyes. But she said nothing more. Dezi's expression fell at the mention of Brian's name. She slowly closed up the first aid kit, her strong shoulders narrowed.

Tolomsky laid a dirty hand on hers and Dezi greeted his eyes with sadness. She swallowed hard. "I still see it. Even sometimes when I'm awake. It'll never go away."

"It won't." Jax replied quietly. "Not for a long time."

"What?" Netty asked sharply.

"Brian." Dezi answered meekly.

"What about him?"

Dezi shrugged. "I guess you have to watch what you say to people; that sometimes even meaningless curses can come true."

"What's that, Dezi?" Prime asked with a softer voice.

"I saw him die."

Netty swallowed air. "Dezi!"

"I can't talk about it." Dezi swiftly added. "Brian paid for his sins. But I never thought it would be . . . like that."

"What about your Aunt Delphra?" Prime asked to change the subject. He could hear the horror in Dezi's voice and did not want to pursue dark thoughts.

"I don't know." Dezi replied softly. "I just know the deaths and the screams." She fell quiet again before softly repeating: "Just the screams."

They safely arrived at the embankment. Much of the vegetation stood charred or lay in ash heaps. Galvatron and Yarez swept over the area in search of signs of spies or possible traps. But again, there was nothing to be found.

Roller bleeped softly as it scurried from under the wreckage of a nearby building. Normally Prime would have welcomed the tiny scout vehicle, but he had other passengers and the little car zipped back and forth as though homeless.

Galvatron stomped back to Prime with a shaking head. "Nothing." He reported. "There is nothing here."

"That's strange." Prime answered quietly.

Galvatron grunted.

"There should be something, anything here. Even if it's a Sharkticon guard. What do you suppose it might be?"

"A fight." Galvatron answered simply.

"Between the Inoux and the Quintessons?"

"Most likely. But this is afternoon. The Quintessons like to be-"

"-Entertained." Prime swiftly answered. "I think I understand."

Galvatron impassively turned away and tramped down the bank and dipped into the stream of filthy water. Prime followed him, his passengers held tightly as the cliffside of the embankment caused his squared form to rock and slip. Once he was in water, however, the underside of his vehicle form shifted, tires rotated and slates of metal slipped out of subspace.

Dezi allowed herself to grin as the Autobot shifted forward after Galvatron. All Optimus needed was a pair of wings and flight capabilities, he'd most certainly be multi-purpose.

"I don't remember much, except that there was a terrible tremor in the ceiling above me. The whole train shook and it was all I could do just to hold on. Some people feared they would be crushed and so they jumped. They were killed from falling cement or light fixtures. I stood in the doorway, clinging to the post as the train swayed from side to side and finally derailed. I thought that was frightening. What came after the quake was even worse."

Dezi gave the EDC officer who attended her arm a weary smile. The nurse returned the smile and moved on to the next refugee. Dezi fingered a cup of herbal tea offered her in a small Styrofoam cup then sent her brown eyes climbing all of Optimus Prime's terrible height. She squirmed a little under the stare of his unblinking optics. He wanted to hear everything, but weariness and trauma had taken much of what Dezi witnessed and experienced from her present memory. She would sleep fitfully and dream and pray to forget.

At least the Resistance group were really nice. They made sure all her people were well cared for the very second Prime and Galvatron brought them in. Cyclonus and the others secured the bunker earlier that day, having no more trouble than clearing brush and debris from the entrance.

If it was luck, it was sent by whatever god someone else believed in. If it was all a trap to lure the Resistance into a false sense of security, then Dezi was just as guilty as they, daring to hope they had a refuge.

"It's alright, Dezi." Prime urged gently. "Take your time. You do not have to tell me everything all at once. I can wait, or I can leave you alone entirely."

Dezi thought him very kind and she felt encouraged enough to struggle through the haze of shock. She leaned back in the comfortable bed and snuggled under the warm soft blanket. The huge bunker was beautifully designed, well-equipped for just about every emergency thinkable. The young woman dared not to imagine how many years were spent in its planning. "Well, I managed to climb my way out and staggered around like a lot of other people. There was no light to speak of and everyone kept asking if anyone else had a flashlight or a cigarette lighter of some kind. A couple of people were able to create a make-shift torch, but it didn't last. At least, not when those monsters came-" and here Dezi cut herself off, biting tears. She turned to Tolomsky who lay in the next bed, sleeping under the spell of a tranquilizer. She was offered one too, but she wasn't ready to sleep. Not yet.

Optimus remained silent, not wanting to push her any faster or further than she was willing to go. He marveled at her tenacity, her strength to keep moving in spite of shocking circumstances.

Dezi turned back to him and sipped her tea, suspecting it might be laced with a sedative. "You know, my life up till now has more or less been pretty normal. Pretty boring. I get up, I go to work, I come home and study. I take time to see my friends and volunteer at the women's refuge. But now . . . now what will happen to me? Where does my life go from here?"

Prime tilted his head a little to the left, his optics darkening slightly. "Wherever your strength leads you, Dezi."

She wrinkled her face in puzzlement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Often in times of peace, we do not see the heroes, Dezi. And I know you will meet the challenge with everything you have. Your Grandfather's spark resides in you."

The tea was indeed laced. Sleep lured Dezi to settle a little more comfortably in the first real bed she slept in for over a week. She smiled in gratitude. "Thank you, Optimus. I guess we can talk a little later, when I'm not so tired. Is that okay?"

"Hmhm. Good night, Dezi. No dreams." And he stood, taking note how the young woman turned on her injured shoulder long enough to take another glance at Jax before rolling back and falling asleep.

Two days passed while the Resistance managed to organize themselves enough to decide what to do. The captains argued and bickered into long hours of the night, discussing their position against the enemy.

The three Transformers present listened until seemingly bored, Optimus slipped away. Hoping not to look too obvious about it, Galvatron searched the bunker for hours, finding not a trace of the Autobot leader. Humans frowned at him in passing, but said nothing. Galvatron knew they would rather see him blown to pieces and scrapped. They were angry and frustrated, but the Humans could say nothing. The Decepticon kept his amusement to himself, knowing the flesh creatures would easily take offense.

Finally, late at night, he found Optimus outside staring across the plane toward the ruined, besieged city. Knowing words were not the thing for the moment, Galvatron silently took a place on a nearby rock and stared toward the tiny lights that made what was left of the town and the hovering Inouxian mother ship.

No crickets chirruped. No frogs burped in the cool autumn night. The stiff mountain breezes registered at forty-one degrees against the Decepticon's exostructure.

Silence and darkness.

But here, in the cold night, Galvatron did not fear the silence. Just sitting in the quiet with the presence of another soul felt good.

Finally Prime stirred from his somber stillness. "How could I have prevented all this? How it could have been stopped? All I have are grave memories." He paused for a second and ended with "How did they know, Galvatron? How did they know right where to hit us?"

Galvatron sat straight, but his optics did not move from the debris field. "The answer you seek may never come. The question you must ask is 'what now', not 'what if'. Do you plan to stay or will you go to Cybertron? Will you seek your Second and follow his path? Or will you choose to stay and lead these people?"

Galvatron's words could not have been truer. Optimus touched his chest and though he felt nothing at this time, he feared it would not be long before the virus would eat its way past his defenses and begin its malignant work again. "I doubt my path lies here." He answered at length. "I don't know why, but it's not here."

"Cybertron?" Galvatron suggested.

"No. Not Cybertron. What will happen, will happen in spite of my attempted interference."

"How do you mean?"

Prime now turned and a sadness crossed his face plates, a sadness the likes of which Galvatron had not seen in millions of years: True despair.

"It is a dead thing in a living body." Prime's voice echoed his expression and he had to look away.

But his actions were too late. Galvatron saw the tears. "You do not wish to return to Cybertron?"

"No. I gave it to the Paratrons. I left them a grave and returned to Earth."

Galvatron's face twisted in confusion. He carefully picked his way down three feet until he gained a good position on the mountain ledge near Prime's side. The Decepticon peered into Optimus' expressionless mask. "I don't understand." He nudged carefully.

Prime's optics grew distant. He no longer stared at the city below them. He no longer studied the Inouxian mother ship that, for some reason, failed to register them or the bunker. And Prime wondered really how, with all the Inouxian technology and the Quintesson's soldiers marching over the globe, how the Resistance managed to survive. "Sometimes," he began softly, "life, giving life, dies at birth."

Galvatron's red optics darkened with suspicion. Optimus was purposefully evading him. He used riddles and poetry to give an answer. Long ago, this evasiveness would have enraged the former Decepticon leader. If Galvatron had been any less a person than he was now, he would have burst into rage.

Instead, he took on Prime's evasiveness as a challenge and considered the words carefully. Birth and Cybertron. There was no birthing on Cybertron. At least, there had not been for a long time. At least, not that he was aware. "Vector Sigma?" He whispered.

He was rewarded with a silent gesture from Optimus Prime; the bowing of his head. It was enough; Galvatron knew it was an affirmative answer. But Galvatron did not gloat over his correct guess. He did not whoop and holler, demanding attention toward his intellect. And after the next moment, Galvatron too grew somber. 'I gave them a grave . . . life gave life and died at birth . . .' And the Decepticon shuddered inside. "Vector Sigma is dead." He surmised in solemnity.

"Yes."

Prime's strong baritone voice filled only the distance between them. The answer, an awful burden for anyone to bear, tore Galvatron's spark. They were doomed. As a race, the Transformers were as good as dead. No more Autobots, no more Decepticons. No more anything. What was left was what was left. And Optimus just handed Cybertron over to the Paratrons, not because he was being nice in giving them a home, but because he knew sooner or later Cybertron would be unfit for habitation. Oh, the power and glory of the planet's Rebirthing would undoubtedly last hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. But Transformers had longer life spans than that. Once the power drained from the planet, the air would 'rot' and the water supply would decompose and then radiation would spread upward from the lower levels. Millions would die from electronic viruses caused by air-poisoned energon and machines corrupted by rust damage.

If it was dawn, Jax Tolomsky could not see the sun. He no longer cared, anyway. The world he knew no longer existed. There was only the shades of light and the food given him when it was available. The only bit of laughter in his life was his niece.

Movement caught his dry eyes and he turned, finding Dezi sitting on the metal flooring against the firm clean bed next to his. The 'old man' twisted his body so that he lay on his side supported by an elbow, his eyes rested on his only treasure.

"Dezi." He whispered. "You're finally crying. I thought the shock woulda worn off long ago. You're crying."

Dezi swiftly wiped her cheeks and tried to mask her face with determination. But it did not last. And it would not work well with Tolomsky anyway. Jax was too smart. "I guess I was just thinking how lucky we were to survived as long as we did. And how many people we left behind-those people we didn't find. I dunno, Jax."

"We'll get to them." Tolomsky batted his eyes, his face too weary to smile. "I know one way or another you'll find a way. You found me."

"**You** found **me**." Dezi corrected. Her eyes fell to the floor and her shoulders rose and fell. She felt him stare, knowing he was searching for the right thing to say.

"We're gonna do it." Jax insisted. "We're gonna survive."

Dezi shot her eyes away and shook her head as another tear smeared her cheek. "Are we? What's all this, Jax? What the hell are we still doing alive? Nobody from EDC or the other organizations wanted to listen to me out there in that meeting earlier today. They're all so concerned about saving their own skins, they don't give a damn that other people out there need help."

"They're scared, Dez. Just like the rest of us. Scared senseless. They need a direction. This place ain't so bad. I bet there's more t' this bunker than Prime's willing to say in one brilliant speech."

"Prime." She nearly spat. "I can't believe he'd be stupid enough to go into the city just carousing around as if it were his private garden looking for stragglers to adopt."

"I'm sure if he felt it were too dangerous, he would not have come out."

"You don't know Prime. He's an idiot. Safety isn't in his vocabulary. I could tell you things he's done that would make you shit."

Now Tolomsky smiled in his old casual way, a spark lit his tired, shock-driven eyes. "I know a few. I've been around. I don't think you give him enough credit. He's been around longer than you and me put together. And you know, Dez, if there's anybody we should be looking to lead us, it's him. But nobody's asked. Nobody's thought of just asking-"

"No!" Dezi shot him a cross look. "He doesn't belong here, Jax! I want him with my sister! He can't really help us here. Not really. He'd do us a great deal more good if he were away, planning a counter-attack from the outside."

Tolomsky fell quiet a moment. His eyes bounced from one side of the ward to the other, not really taking account of the number of beds or those who occupied them. He did not see how some people made a home around their bed by somehow taping photographs of lost loves, letters from friends. One woman slept with her daughter's doll.

Dezi sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. Her face fell blank as her thoughts drifted.

"Have you thought about talking to him?" Tolomsky asked quietly. He hoped his question would not make her mad.

Dezi slowly shook her head without looking at him. "Why should I?"

"Cuz, he's been through all this before. You want direction, Dez, we got someone who might know what to do. I think he's just hanging back because he's aware of Human pride. He knows, Dez. He knows."

Tolomsky's words earned him a gaze from her. No anger, no frustration. Dezi shuddered from her tears and drew a deep breath. Then she nodded.

There was another meeting late that afternoon. Dezi heard it was supposed to solve problems regarding communication protocols or some other uneventful thing. They were in the middle of a crisis and all the EDC officials could think of was arguing whether or not to use citizen's band radio language.

But she noticed Optimus Prime wasn't there, either. So she traversed the bunker from end to end, from west to east and found no sign of him.

"Try the great outdoors." Galvatron suggested, although she did not ask him directly.

"How did you know I was looking for him?"

But the Decepticon did not answer. His stone-faced features remained cold as he turned and walked away. Dezi did not know how to interpret that; if it was his way of being non-threatening, or if he was being rude.

She took his advice anyway, knowing he could be lying to her and setting her up to be killed. But nothing of the sort happened. She found Prime sitting among the choppy, rocky surface of the mountain side gazing north-west toward the city and the hovering Inouxian mother ship. Dezi climbed round the boulders and perched atop one that allowed her to stare into the expressionless face of the Autobot leader.

"I didn't see you at the meeting." She said after needlessly clearing her throat.

"Oh. Is that what that was?" There was a smile in Prime's voice and Dezi was amazed she caught it.

The young woman smiled at herself, "Yeah. I couldn't stay, either." She tried to see what he was staring at and saw nothing other than the huge mother ship floating above the distant city. "Prime, why don't you just take over as our leader?"

He did not answer her right away and acted as if he did not want to look from his distant stare. But he did turn to her. "Tyrants take power, Dezi. Leaders are given it."

She thought of it for a moment then smiled. "Well, if you were our leader, what would you suggest we do now?"

He turned from her to the mother ship and Dezi tried to figure out what he was looking at. "If I were your leader? If I thought everyone would accept my advice and proposals?"

"Yes." She replied, "And what are you staring at that's so interesting?"

"The very reason I am not your leader is because I know no one would agree to my suggestion."

Disturbed, she fell silent. He still must be insane to some degree.

Or was it 'survivor's insanity'? Dezi thought about Jax's words, how sure he was of the Autobot leader, even after the traumatic affects of the Matrix Virus. "What would that be, Optimus? What would you plan to do?"

Before he could answer, thunder echoed around the landscape. Dezi and Prime both stared in the north-easterly direction, expecting a large ship to take off at any moment. Instead, a brilliant flash lighted the area brighter than day and instinctively, Prime and Dezi ducked for the other side of the slope. Another thunderclap smacked the air, causing the rocks around them to vibrate, some even cracked. Daring a look, Prime peeked over the edge of the rockface and spotted six Inouxian ships tilting in the distance. Two Quintesson shuttles followed, their typical corkscrew design twirled in the air, each rotation brought about an array of laser fire.

"What is that!" Dezi demanded. "What's going on!"

"Galvatron was right. It would seem our two foes are at each other's necks for the moment." Prime fell silent, his optics narrowed darkly as a plan started to form. "Dezi, let's head back. I have a feeling this incident is not isolated." With that, he slipped down into the nearest entrance and she quickly followed, wondering if he was thinking what she was thinking: Opportunity might be at hand.

"Did you see something? Did you hear the noise?" Jordan asked as Prime and Dezi entered the bunker control room.

"Yes." Prime answered deadpan.

"What did you see?"

"Several ships in battle. Can we get a visual?"

Those present glanced at one another, puzzled. No one had touched the control boards yet.

"I can run it." An Oriental high school student called from the back of the room. She was given access, though people tried not to stare at the treated gash in her cheek.

Prime folded his arms, impatient. EDC members were supposed to be trained in surveillance equipment and other computer operations. Instead of bickering over communication protocols, someone should have been studying the control boards.

Dezi approached the girl and studied her movements. "What's your name?"

"My family is dead. You can just call me 'Banshee."

"Can you patch into other systems from here, Banshee?"

The girl tapped a few keys at the pad and flipped the switch for greater access, allowing Max to work on other commands while she scanned the board. "I don't know. I'm not all that familiar with this board. But I looked at it earlier today and I can operate rudimentary stuff, sensors and the like. Oh, there it is-looks like the satellite is pretty much fried. But the link-up is there and I can patch from that to another if you want."

"Do it." Optimus ordered.

She smiled, self-assured and went to work.

Ingrid entered the control center and glanced from refugee to EDC member and other international army officers. When her eyes fell on the girl busily manipulating controls, she turned to Jordan, a look of near disgust twisted her face. "Don't we have any engineers who can operate the board?"

"Why hasn't anyone bothered to look at the equipment while everyone else has been setting up house?" Jordan snapped in return.

Dezi sighed and rolled her eyes. Pointing fingers was not going to get them anywhere.

Ingrid crossed her arms. "Are you kidding? We just found this room no sooner than this morning-"

Jordan nodded. "So we're relying on a child to run the board-"

"That's enough." Dezi interjected. The two of them turned to her. And she added, "If you think you can find someone more qualified, I highly suggest you find that person now while Banshee is working." She paused while Jordan hesitated. "Well, go on!" She snapped.

Reluctantly, he turned and stomped out. Dezi turned back to Banshee. "You're doing a wonderful job, Banshee, keep it up."

Not more than three minutes passed and the huge screen finally told the occupants the one thing they did not want to see: "No data. "I guess that means all connecting satellites are down or destroyed."

Optimus knelt next to her. "Can you link up to another satellite? Perhaps a television station?"

Her brows bounced and she tilted her head slightly then raced her fingers over the keypad at lightening speed. Then she sat back and shook her head. "I need call letters. I'm a first semester exchange student-"

"KRDI." Prime answered.

She keyed it in and two seconds later, they got an acknowledgment. But then it also required a password. Other onlookers quietly moaned in despair. How could anyone ever guess a password? Dezi crossed her arms and leaned against the consol, her head bowed in thought.

Banshee stared at the monitor. "This whole thing was owned by Berger Enterprises." She thought out loud. "Maybe . . . Optimus Prime, weren't the Protectobots born in Central City?"

"Yes. But why would they be a password?"

"Because . . . you once said they were a gift." And Banshee tapped in the word PROTECTOBOT.

ACCESS GRANTED.

In four seconds they got a full view of the devastation of Central City and its residential areas. Dezi squeezed Banshee's shoulders and stared at the screen, not so much at the devastation as for key points, vital enemy holdings and possible strategic locations.

"Banshee, could you possibly zero in on certain places?"

"Yeah, sure. What would you like, Burger King or McDonalds?"

"This is not a laughing matter!" Ingrid snapped.

Dezi sized the other woman with typical Witwicky fashion. "Keep that attitude and you'll end up dead." She warned.

Ingrid gaped at her. "Are you threatening me?"

"I don't have to. Life does that well enough. Banshee, I need you to pin point that one area where the smoke is rising. Can you do that?"

"Now hold on here!" Ingrid shouted.

Prime cut in, "I think I know what Dezi is looking at Ingrid."

Banshee managed to triangulate the area and brought up a newly-built structure complete with Sharkticon guards and Human slaves pushing huge carts of scrap metal.

Ingrid finally approached the control consol and dared a cat's eye glance at Dezi who pretended to ignore her. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

"A Quintesson manufacturing facility." Prime answered solemnly. "They're processing scrap for raw materials."

Dezi shook her head. "They didn't waste any time making themselves at home here, did they?"

Jordan came dashing in followed by a scrawny stray-cat of a fellow with mangy hair and a dirty face. "This guy used to sell com . . .pu . . .ters." His voice trailed while everyone stared at the screen. "What is that?"

Dezi turned to face him and gave the other fellow a visual once-over. "What's your name?" She asked, her voice critical and level.

"Rinstat."

"Can you run a board?"

"Well, I'm more diagnostics. I might be able to-"

"Do you have any engineering experience?"

"Yeah. I made my own RC cars."

"No. I'm talking weapons manipulations and transport vehicles."

"Now hold on for a goddamned minute here!" Ingrid interjected. "Who died and made you boss?" Ingrid peeled her eyes away as Dezi's eyes locked onto her, staring at her just like a Transformer.

"Since you and your committee seem to be so busy trying to decide how you're going to handle communication protocols, I figured someone ought to put on an exterminator's helmet and kick these things out of here."

Ingrid shook her finger at the younger woman and if she had been a cat, her tail would have been swishing. "You are way out of your league. You don't have the faintest idea as to how to survive let alone lead-"

"Excuse me?" Dezi crossed her arms. "I managed to keep forty-seven people alive for two whole weeks with NO weapons and the only rations we had was food I managed to find. I might not know much about your fancy equipment and machinery, but I am a survivalist, lady, which is something you people don't seem to understand. You obviously know nothing about Quintessons-they hate and fear Humans. We can use that against them. Our only problem are the black freak Spider-Things. We know nothing about them, except that just a while ago, Optimus and I spotted them and Quintessons fighting between themselves. We can use that against them too, as a distraction."

"Won't work." Jordan objected. "The others will never go for it."

Dezi pierced him with her eyes too. "Well. I guess they can just stay home and take care of the babies." And she aimed for the door.

Prime, who had been privately enjoying the little cat-fight exchange, pulled his optics from studying the monitor to Dezi as she was leaving the room. "Dezi, where are you going?"

"To do some planning." And the doors slid behind her.

Jordan set his hands on his hips and looked cross. "Who does she think she is?"

"A Witwicky." Prime answered simply.

Ingrid pointed to the monitor. "There is no way we can do anything about that without calling attention to ourselves and getting our butts kicked. You said earlier that our job is to lie low and survive. Now you're siding with this girl who wants to attack the Quintessons?"

"First of all," Prime answered, "Dezi is right. We should not let the Quintessons get away with what they're doing. Even as we speak, they may be setting up other manufacturing facilities around the world. Secondly, it would give us a better idea as to what exactly is going on between the Quintessons and the Inoux-other than the information I have."

Jordan glanced again from screen to Autobot. "And what information is that?"

"The Inoux have a business deal invested in this project. I suspect the Quintessons have given them-as they say-an offer they could not refuse. What that might be, I don't know yet."

Both Ingrid and Jordan fell quiet for a long moment. All occupants in the room watched the monitor as slave team after team continued to push huge carts of scrap metal into the factory.

Then Ingrid's stance relaxed a little. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I don't know." Prime answered simply. "Why don't we ask Dezi?"

The collected 'officials' of the Resistance agreed to hear Dezi's idea and a meeting was scheduled in two hours. Dezi did not seem all that impressed when Prime found her and told her the news. She sat against the wall on her bed and frowned, glancing motherly at Jax who lay sleeping. Most of the other occupants had left for the mess hall, taking many of their friends or loved-ones with them. But Dezi was not hungry and she did not wish to sit with her mother and listen to a line of complaints.

"Well," she finally answered. "I guess it's nice that the 'powers that be' decide to take some their precious time out of their schedules and listen to my ideas. But I don't think they'll take me very seriously. Either way, I don't think I'll be staying here."

"Why, Dezi?" Prime's voice came soft and low.

"Because they're fools. They think they're all safe and sound here. They think nothing can touch them because you're here with us. They think nothing can hurt them. But you're-" she cut herself off and smirked softly. "You're hot property. As long as you stay here with us, we're in even greater danger of being discovered. The Quints, no doubt, will sooner or later learn how to track down Matrix energy emissions.

Prime smiled with his optics. "Your grandfather would be very proud of you right now, Dezi."

She shrugged and frowned.

"I think, Dezi, this is your calling."

She shook her head. "No. They can't take me seriously enough. You saw how those two dunderheads reacted to me earlier. That broad was ready to tear into me with claws fully extended. And that imbecile couldn't tell the difference between a diagnostics major and a computer programmer."

"What if I told you I have something that would give you an edge?"

"You mean I need to pick a fight?"

"No. You don't need any help in that area. And you don't need anyone to help you prove yourself to them. I believe in you, Dezi. I have something here in the bunker-" Prime tilted his head slightly, his blue optics flashed brilliantly a moment. "The meeting does not start for another forty-five minutes. Let me show you something."

She took another glance at Jax and nodded.

Prime led her to the lower levels. Dezi marveled at the intricate engineering feat it took to create such a base. Everything was carefully thought out from lighting to structure, to wall paneling. The bunker was designed to accommodate both Autobots and their Human companions. And there were access ports at every angle and turn and Dezi wondered what all this bunker contained because obviously, there was a great deal more than space, a huge supply of rations and descent bedding.

Prime introduced her to a flat square in a wall, a square, very much like the others, but a slightly different texture. Well, all the panels in the walls had texture, but the textures were all different, the metal burnished or polished in different directions and styles. The panel slid up, they entered and it slid silently back down. Light shot on the instant Prime stepped through and the room revealed itself stocked with weapons and ammunition the amount of which Dezi could not even dream. Her eyes about fell out of her face, her mouth could not stretch any further.

"What the hell . . . is this what you and Rodimus have been doing all these years? Rusti never mentioned this!"

Prime harumphed almost in amusement. "If that's the case, it's probably the one thing she **doesn't **know."

Dezi smiled, silently laughing. "Well, this is a really pretty room, Prime. But don't you think you should show it to the Resistance leaders instead of me?"

Optimus did not answer. He advanced toward the back end of the room. Dezi dashed to keep up with his footfalls and they walked for quite a few minutes-fifteen by the young woman's account. Against the back wall lined a series of drawers like a giant's in-wall filing cabinet. Prime entered a code from the right-hand drawer second from the floor. It opened silently and he withdrew a small metallic box.

"This is not something to flaunt in front of anyone else. If it were any other time, I could very well be accused of theft." He handed it to her and Dezi stared at him long before she finally opened the box.

She blinked and stared at the prototype force field EDC armor-suit. It was an exact replica of Rusti's with the slight exception of color. She managed to look back to him. " . . . I don't know what to say." She finally managed.

"You're welcome." Prime answered softly.

"You thought of everything." Her voice trailed off as she stared back at the piece of equipment. She did not dare tell even Optimus Prime how often her sister and she would go out to an empty field and work on using the suit. Rusti told her how she figured how to operate it so that the suit was a weapon, not just a fancy personalized force field.

"Not everything." Prime immediately answered. He produced another box, one slightly longer than the first.

Dezi felt like a girl attending a private birthday party. She lowered to her knees and opened the second box.

An alien chrome-plated rifle hung suspended in a cradle in the box. She ran her fingers lightly over its cold surface and glanced back at Prime.

"What . . . what . . ."

"An Antares Screamer." He answered gravely. "It's a weapon of incalculable power. I know I can trust your judgement regarding its potential, Dezi."

A Screamer. Dezi all too clearly recalled the situation years ago regarding the Antares Screamer and how the Doppelganger war cult had acquired a Screamer. Fortunately, they did not have it for long. But the devastation still scared much of Douglas county leaving a permanent land mark in one hill where a hole, pierced clear through to the other side.

"Ohmigod." Dezi whispered. "You did think of everything."

"No." Prime sadly replied. "Not everything."

Dezi and Prime entered the bunker's outer chamber, a hanger for flying Autobots and EDC jets. Several folding chairs made three rows for audience participants and ten chairs behind two tables divided the 'committee' between EDC and other surviving officials from governments around the world.

Dezi felt as though she were being put on trial, not questioned by her peers. She held her head high, determined to have her say, whether or not they agreed to it.

Jordan stood as Galvatron, Cyclonus and Prime took the

back side of the audience.

Jordan, sitting next to Yearta, laid his arms over one another, his face set straight. "I believe the rest of us would like to hear your proposal, Miss Witwicky. But I warn you that not all of us may be supportive of your ideas. We're talking survival. What you suggest might jeopardize our secrecy."

Dezi's eyes shot cold darts at him. "Willing to hang me before I speak?" Her voice rang as cold and clear as her gaze. "I'm pretty sure if I were an officer or just a common male citizen, you'd give me more respect." She watched Jordan squirm under her accusations and tried not to smile. "I suggest we under-handedly sabotage the Quint's operations here. This bunker is the only one of its kind here on Earth, is it not, Optimus?"

"Yes." Regret filled the Autobot leader's voice. "There would have been others had Rodimus and I-"

Ingrid rudely interrupted here: "And because it **is** the only one of its kind, all the more reason for us to lay low."

Dezi turned to her with a raise of brows, as if Ingrid stated the obvious. "I agree. We should not make a spectacle of ourselves. But we can attack inconspicuously. If anyone here knows anything about Quintessons, I'm sure you will recall that Quintessons are a superstitious people. If they find something goes wrong without reasonable explanation, generally, they take is as a bad sign." She turned back to Galvatron, her face set in solid self-assurance. "Is that not right, Galvatron?"

"Unarguably." The former Decepticon leader confirmed.

Dezi turned back to the committee of frightened leaders. She could look at them with disgust for being so cowardly. But Dezi understood their position. These were people who had lost everything; their homes, their loved ones, their lives. All they had left, for the most part was themselves because even hope was not in their hearts. Her heart swelled with compassion for them. All they needed was a good morality boost and she believed she could give that much. "Give me three people." She asked, her eyes scanning from one group of officials to the other, "And weaponry of my choice and we will shut down the Quint's manufacturing-"

Yearta jerked to his feet, his face red with impatience. "By yourself?" He snorted. "That's insane and absurd! We are in hiding-you're just a woman, what can you possibly do-"

"Don't you go acting like an ass mad with rabies!" Tolomsky's voice filled the cavern, surprising Galvatron.

Dezi nearly lost her face as her 'uncle' hobbled in the hanger with a make-shift cane. "You people hide behind reasoning, coming up with all kinds of ideas as to WHY it can't be done. You listen to this young lady! She's held us together for two weeks, gathering food and water, going out by herself-all by herself risking her life just so a few of us can keep on going. You listen to her!"

The committee fell silent or turned away, embarrassed. Jordan stared at his own hands, guilt cast over him like a looming bird of prey. Finally he drew a breath, but now his expression changed to stone. "What, Optimus Prime, would you do?"

Prime moved slowly, unsure really if Jordan wanted to hear his advice, or was looking for an avenue of excuses. "If I had any doubts in myself, and found a measure of hope in another, I would follow the other." He answered carefully.

Jordan's dark eyes pierced him. "So, you're saying I should do what the girl says."

"I think you should consider her words. At this point, no one can tell how the tables will turn. The Quintessons and Inoux are fighting among themselves. If there is any ground to be seized and held, it must be now, while the distraction lasts. As for Dezi, no one said good ideas must always come from genus, the military or political leaders, Jordan. There have been times when even the least of Autobots has come up with the most brilliant of ideas. If you value her experience and consider her judgment sound, listen to her. You are not speaking to a child when you talk to Dezi Witwicky. I stake my life on it."

Dezi did not look at him, but a smile swept her face. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about her. She lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. "This is the hour of heroes." she declared. "Strap on your backbones, boys and girls, we're going to war."

"Please be careful." Jax begged as Dezi prepared to depart.

"You know I will."

"I know."

Awkward silence.

"Did you want me to pick anything up on the way home, Uncle Jax?"

Tolomsky batted his eyes, a little surprised. He forced a smile over his face. "Yeah, Dez. A half gallon of chocolate marble ice cream."

"Ice cream?" Miss Witwicky looked up from checking the controls on the wrist panel of her exo-suit for the millionth time. The Screamer lay safely in a cradle of subspace to her right side. She only had an hour to give it a glance-over before their departure. Fortunately, Optimus knew enough about it to give her a few instructions. The rest would have to be tested on the battle field. She said nothing of it to anyone nor did anyone offer her anything the EDC used during their European battles.

They were expecting her to fail.

Jax gazed at his feet, knowing his request could not possibly be fulfilled.

"How about a gallon instead?" Dezi offered. "That way, both of us can get a tummy ache in the morning."

Jax couldn't help smiling and he silently embraced her before she left.

Three days later, she returned with the ice cream.

The stench was unbearable.

Dezi about gagged as she and Daren Pasley scampered from one crushed building to another like unseen mice stalking the wheat field in the middle of some distant hot afternoon.

The air suffocated under a gauze of smoldering buildings and a metal stench rising from the Quintesson's manufacturing facility. Just faintly, Dezi thought she heard screams coming from there, but she said nothing to her companions.

The quake that chased Rodimus and Springer back to Fort Max left a chasm a quarter of a mile deep and stretched two miles along the west by north-western part of Central City. It was perfect for the disposing of Human flesh after the Quints used the poor souls to death.

Dezi's other two companions, Chang Tzu and Emryk Murrow, covered the eastern side of the area and kept in touch only through an occasional bleep to let Dezi know they were still alive and out of danger. They crept from ruin to ruin, scampering and kissing the filthy, often blood-drenched ground as street after street brought them closer to their target area. The three robots promised to meet them, but Dezi had no idea how they were managing to keep so well out of sight. She heard nothing in the terrible stillness of dusk; not so much as purr of an American-designed Cybertronian Semi.

She dared to stand to her full height, taking a good hard glance at the area. The damage was such that Dezi did not recognize what part of the city she was in. If it were the 'café scene', not so much as a table was left untouched. If it was a business district, then only the cars and the buildings stood. Too much like tombstones, the young woman thought dismally. It was hard to believe only a few weeks ago, Dezi herself was in school, day dreaming about summer vacation. It was hard to believe how all this, all of a sudden, could turn her whole world into the shambles of some badly written Stephen King novel.

"What do you see, Dezi?" Her companion asked in a whispery voice.

At first she thought about telling him of the tombstones. Then she considered reporting the devastation that choked her heart. She saw a woman's rotting arm projecting from the crushed window of a pulverized building, but Dezi did not want to mention it. She almost said 'nothing', when her eyes caught sight of the Quintesson manufacturing facility. "I think I see the place." She answered instead. "But I can't make it out."

"No sign of Prime and the others?" He asked, fumbling his back pack for something.

"No." She paused a moment and again heard imaginary screams.

Pasley glanced at her before producing a pair of binoculars. "Did you hear that?"

"Trying to pretend I didn't." She muttered.

"Gawd, what are they doing over there?"

Dezi moved forward, now determined to carry out her objective. "Whatever it is that Quintessons do best, Mr. Pasley." She replied humorlessly.

They moved on, silently stepping over the ruins of automobiles blown to pieces. They crept along the naked areas of the streets, those spots left untouched by the devastation.

And the stench seemed to penetrate even their clothes. Dezi had to pause a moment or two to cover her mouth and nose and wipe her watery eyes. She decided to activate the exo-suit. To hell with what Pasley would think or say if he realized something different about her.

Dezi was able to breathe more easily the moment the suit's force field came on. At first she thought it would make a sound, but it did not and not only was she able to breathe more easily, Dezi realized her body felt lighter and her sight grew sharper. As she lay belly-down on the ground, waiting for the right moment to move on, she caught sight of a small rock laying about a foot from her. Dezi took a chance and pointed her finger at it. A small spark snapped from her finger and the rock shattered.

"What was that!" Pasley snapped in fear.

"I dunno." Dezi answered calmly. "I didn't hear anything."

"I did. Sounded like someone stepping on a rock."

They waited for about twenty minutes until Murrow signaled he and Tzu were in position.

Another beep softly peeped and Dezi knew Prime and Galvatron arrived on the other side of the factory. She drew a deep breath and moved first, Pasley tipped lightly behind her. They scampered some yards along the crevice until they spotted a massive bridge.

They stood just a few feet from it and stared. The bridge wasn't freshly-poured metal, but an evil conglomeration of Autobot bodies pounded into a smooth, even surface. They hadn't even been melted. Their metal frames were simply crushed and bent, sliced and smoothed.

Dezi thought she was going to be sick because she could tell two, maybe three Autobots were still barely alive. The young woman swore with all her soul she never knew a species more barbaric than the Quintessons.

Pasley grabbed her by the hand and yanked her to the ground. She glanced to his left to see what frightened him suddenly and spotted several huge beasts on six legs tugging huge carts behind them.

If huge was the right word. Not only were the carts containing scrap metal incredibly large, the freaky things tugging them along were also huge. They almost resembled tape worms, their bodies sectioned off in squares, their heads were little more than freakish oval eyes and a mouth much like that of a praying mantis. Their six legs were like the Inoux-mere insectoid with fine needle-points of hardened texture rather than conventional appendixes or feet.

Three such things passed them, regarding Dezi and Pasley as not more than bugs in a pile of refuse. Then five more carts came along. These were pulled by human slaves. It was a sight more pitiful than the dying Dezi had seen in the last two weeks. The slaves were barely clad. Their skin sagged in pasty grey. Their eyes either covered by bands of cloth, or staring in trauma. Other slaves didn't have eyes.

Dezi's skin turned clammy.

A huge group of prisoners stumbled behind the caravan. A single-faced Quint with the oblong head and sharp teeth floated along side them. He spoke to them in his own language, obviously cursing and threatening them. Dezi gritted her teeth. This would be a great opportunity to get inside the complex if she and Pasley could somehow join the group of prisoners without the Quint spotting them.

The procession started over the bridge. The insectoids crossed first, one, two, three. Then the Humans started over with their load. The Quint whipped one little boy and cursed him before spitting in his direction. But some other young man became the victim of the spittle and he coughed, gagged and dry-heaved. The Quintesson whipped him.

All eyes turned northward when one human slave screamed. The caravan stopped and the Quints floated to the first cart tugged by the poor souls.

Dezi knew this blessed distraction would not last and she gripped Pasley's hand and they joined the flock of pathetic prisoners. The woman she stood beside stared at her with wide, hopeless eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered. "You'll be going to your death!"

The Quint returned and snapped the electro whip over the heads of prisoners and the caravan pressed forward. Dezi forced herself to look straight ahead as she found herself having to walk over the flattened, bloodied body of a slave, fallen under a cart wheel.

They crossed the chasm and Dezi and Pasley heard people moan and gag at the stench of dead bodies beneath them.

And to think, Dezi Witwicky thought to herself, not more than two weeks ago this was one of the finest cities on Earth.

Prime knew the city like the workings of his own weapon. Even in the dismal chaos of butchered buildings and the pasty-white of withering corpses, Optimus knew exactly where he stood and where they were going. They crept from concealment to covering, keeping a cautious optic on the broken cars, the walls that could hide an enemy and a sky containing the ominous Inouxian ship.

Prime crawled from one building, followed by Galvatron who advanced again, tagged by Cyclonus who covered their backside at every fragment of sound. Had any Humans been around, they would have been amazed at how silent the Transformer's footfalls came-fleeting and grinding no noisier than a small dog passing over a gravel-covered alleyway.

But something grabbed his chest suddenly and Optimus caught himself and bowed over just as he was about to make the next move. He fell hard on his knees. Something bucked inside; a Darkness tried to break from prison. Prime shuddered, not even remotely aware Galvatron gripped his shoulders shouting his name. He was not aware four ships poured from the Inouxian mother ship. He was not aware how close they had come to the Quintesson factory.

Optimus was not even aware that for the moment, he had lost his sight. His automatic defense systems kicked in and rerouted power to the tiny implant. Another moment passed and Darkness receded. Optimus' sight cleared. He shuddered, his senses reeling from slight overload.

"Prime!" Galvatron struggled to keep from shouting again.

Optimus regained his equanimity and gazed into the blood-red optics of his Decepticon companion. "I'm okay." He weakly answered. "Just . . . just lost my balance, is all."

Galvatron scrutinized him, optics narrowing darkly, suspiciously. But Prime, ashamed of his momentary weakness, only looked away.

The roaring engines of Quintesson fighters rumbled overhead. The three Transformers lay as flat and as close to off-line as possible. The ships moved on, heedless.

Cyclonus raised his horned head first and watched the fighters fly northward. "They're moving on a serpentine trajectory." He informed his companions.

Galvatron and Prime stared off after the jets then glanced at one another. "How much time?" Optimus asked.

"If the Quintessons are engaged in a fight with the Inoux, chances are they will try to weasel their way out of it." Galvatron answered. "Their greed always outweighs their desire for violent entertainment.

Optimus recalled how the ships came and left every four hours. What did it mean? Why? "Something important has to be inside that factory." He hypothesized. "Otherwise, there would not be such a ritualistic ordeal over it."

The two Decepticons glanced at one another.

"You mean," Cyclonus translated, "the Quintessons have something we want to examine for ourselves."

Optimus silently nodded.

Galvatron fingered his chin, mischief lit his optics. "We'll need a way into the factory. That means a diversion will be necessary."

And both he and Prime turned toward Cyclonus. The Decepticon's lip components fell apart in silent protest. But he knew arguing would prove futile.

After another twenty minute walk, Dezi and Pasley approached a great sliding door to the factory. Sulfur and melted metal filtered the air in a ghastly sweet-hot aroma.

The door slid up and Dezi knew if she and Pasley were going to do anything, it needed to be now. But she really hadn't expected this kind of opportunity and could not decide if she would start problems here outside the complex, or inside. If she entered the factory, chances were, she and Pasley could get cornered. If they stayed outside, they might not get the kind of action necessary to cause trouble.

As if she had prayed for help, four Quintesson shuttles shot out of the factory just as five dark triangular ships came soaring out of the clouds. A part of the outside wall fragmented when a laser snapped at it. The Quintesson slave-driver shouted for its prisoners to keep moving, its tentacles flaying in a panic. Another laser kissed the ground, tossing dirt, debris and bone fragments at the prisoners. The Quint kept shouting and demanding. Recognizing a good distraction, Pasley at the Quint's electro-whip, knocking it out of the creature's 'hand'. Then he shot the wheels from under the nearby cart, thereby obstructing the door from sliding down.

"RUN!" Dezi shouted to the prisoners. The Quint came right for her. She pointed a finger at the ugly thing and a bolt of power slammed into its huge face. It screamed, enraged and fell backwards, tentacles flaying in every direction while prisoners ran for their lives. That was when a small Quintesson craft actually crashed into the factory wall, creating a close-order explosion that knocked everyone off their feet.

Dezi and Pasley crawled as fast as they could and crouched behind the wreckage of a brick building. Other runaway prisoners were fried as they dashed for safety.

An Inoux vessel swiftly landed nearby and three Destroyers leapt out and attacked the Quints. Two Quints lost their tentacles two and three at a time until only their torsos and heads were left. They kept screaming until the Destroyer Class hacked off their heads. The other two Destroyer Class clamored over the wall, their pencil-thin legs left dent marks in the smooth metal surface. Dezi heard morbid screaming; weapons fired at random. Dezi scampered from safety to help those still inside the complex, still bound to their cart.

That was when the jet engines of a Transformer thundered too closely overhead. Twin infusion guns melted the remains of the Quintesson vessel.

Dezi had never heard or seen a Decepticon in flight. But she knew what a Transformer sounded like. She lifted her eyes to the dark brown clouds and watched as Cyclonus sped over the factory, executed a perfect vertical loop, amassing in speeds no Human pilot could endure. He shot back down in a perfect straight descent and fired at the Inoux vessel with no results.

Well, not exactly 'no results'. The four Quintesson ships that left not more than a few precious moments ago returned with ferocity and aimed lasers and rockets at the lone Decepticon jet.

Dezi almost jumped up and down for joy. It was yet another blessing not looked for. She wasted no time and ran straight into the factory and placed the first of six bombs at the door way. She ran down a huge corridor, breathless and excited at the same time. At any second she could be caught and crushed or shot on sight by some slimy five-faced freak with tentacles and cotton for brains. Pasley tracked behind her, pausing now and again to cover their backsides from possible ambush.

"What are we looking for!" He asked her over the com.

"We'll know when we find it!" She answered, almost daring not to breathe.

The earth shook and rocked the facility. Dezi and Pasley hit the wall on their right, pressed against it for the moment. The wall opposite them raised just slightly and six slots in the upper portion slid down, revealing the ugly brown sky. Hatches from the ceiling slid open and folded, bolts unscrewed themselves and gun turrets lowered and zoomed through the opened windows.

The two Humans dared one look at each other before Dezi pointed a small weapon at them and blew two and three guns in a row while Pasley finished the job. Sirens pierced the air and they scurried off like runaway mice in a science lab.

Cyclonus' diversion proved just what Prime and Galvatron needed. They raced toward the northern entrance/exit of the complex and waited for guards to come pouring out like angry ants. But nothing happened. However, the topside of the factory lifted and moved, transforming and changing into battle mode. But clumsy Quintesson weapons were no match for a creature made by a god. Cyclonus was born and bred of something with an intellect that the Quintessons could not hope to match and the form of the sleek, dark Decepticon proved faster than the artificial intelligence of the factory's defense systems. Cyclonus blew off half the upper eastern portion of the factory and spun in an impossible angle, transformed in mid-motion and fired three bursts into two cannons. They blew as they charged, creating a beautiful cloud of red and orange, bright against the dark brown sky and dead grey landscape.

Prime transformed to truck mode the second his feet touched the corridor leading into the heart of the factory. Galvatron followed him, flying almost low enough to scrape the floor beneath him.

"The generators are only a level below us." Galvatron excitedly reported. "We can obliterate this whole thing from there."

Optimus remained solemnly quiet for a long moment, not quite sure if he should express his concern for possible prisoners and slaves, or not. He chose to remain silent, trusting that events will lend him the opportunity to rescue Quintesson victims before the complex was destroyed.

By some freak instance of luck or just good timing, Dezi and Pasley passed from the third corridor into a huge arena in the dead center of the complex. A lake of liquid fire churned and burbled in the center of that arena. The metal stench made the young woman's eyes water and burned her nose.

"What in the name of God is that?" Pasley sounded behind her.

"A smelting pool." She answered deadpan.

"A what?"

She gazed over her shoulder at him, her calm expression surprised him. "A smelting pool. It's where they process raw material. It's just molten metal."

Pasley was about to say something when his eye detected movement. Dezi followed his gaze to the other side of the pool and about swallowed air. She tapped into the comline.

"Gods, Optimus, what are you doing here?"

Before he could answer, a slit on the eastern wall opened and far overhead a huge plank stretched across the pool. It came to a stop and a door opened from the side from which emerged several Paratron Autobots. They marched, arms in the air and a Quintesson guard at their backs. They did not resist the guard. They did not try to overcome it by numbers or brute force. Instead, they waited in line while it walked out in front of them and pushed them off the plank to their deaths. Only when their bodies bobbed once in the molten metal did they scream-hence the origin of Dezi's imaginary screams.

The young woman covered her mouth before she screamed in horror. Dezi slammed her back against the wall, shutting her eyes to the sight as the Autobots melted one or two layers at a time, their screams silenced in death.

It took her a few moments to recover as one Autobot after another was pushed overboard and melted alive. One, then another until Dezi made herself realize there was nothing anyone could do for them that they could not do for themselves. Surely, these creatures who fought for their lives when they left Paratron would fight to stay alive now!

She managed to regain her composure and forced herself to look beyond the melting body shells toward Optimus and Galvatron. But she watched just as they turned away, running down and to the right.

"Come on." Dezi called Pasley.

"Where to?"

"Wherever those Autobots are being held."

On opposite sides of the factory, Optimus and Dezi both were amazed at how few Quintessons or guards there really were at the complex. Was this place working under a skeleton crew? Where was everyone? What about the fighting outside the complex?

Galvatron contacted Cyclonus, receiving a good report with a curse thrown in twice. He 'ordered' Cyclonus to meet them outside the city in the next several moments.

That was before Optimus stopped dead cold in his tracks, causing Galvatron to run into him.

"What are you doing?" Galvatron demanded. But he cut himself off, gaping at the sight before them. A cavernous room yawned, refrigerated by constant infusion of cold air. Hanging from the ceiling in web-like sacs of protoplasm dangled at least a thousand Humans, packaged like sausage. Optimus slowly moved forward, his steps careful and quiet.

Galvatron followed at a slower pace, his face twisted in horror and puzzlement.

"This must be why they conquered Earth." He quietly assumed.

"No." Prime replied. "This is merely a bonus for them. But I doubt this is for themselves. I believe these people are packaged for sale."

Optimus' comment came calm and rational, surprising to Galvatron's audios. As if Prime expected it. "We do not have time to cut them all down and drag them out." Galvatron's own voice came stern and edgy.

"I know." Optimus now turned sad. "They're dead anyway. There's nothing we can do for them." And he turned away. Prime felt cold all inside and he clammed up tight so as not to let on that he grieved for these people. They were all victims. **His** victims. He should have known this was going to happen. He should have known the Quints' silence was indicative of some greater scheme. He should have known.

They tried to go back the way they came and find another path, but the two found no other turns. The whole corridor led right to that room.

"It's one of their disgusting traits." Galvatron snorted. "They designed this so they can count and gloat over their salable products. Disgusting things."

Optimus said nothing. Time ran short and they already wasted so much of it. By now Dezi was probably where he needed to be: wherever the Autobots were being held. He did not want to go through this room, but said nothing of it.

Dezi and Pasley traversed three hallways before nearly getting spotted by a Quintesson. They crouched in a nook near the wall and held their breath. Two Quint drones followed the five-faced lord, their oblong heads bobbed up and down as they spoke in their creepy ancient language. At one point, the lord stopped and his faces shifted to Hate, the demon-like face in red. "I will not tolerate such arrogance again. You can be assured, Bout'hara, that they will all loose their lives over it. I am more than aware there are Transformers running free. I am also aware the Human prisoners coming in from the city of Klamath Falls have escaped. It is not my fault and I will not take the blame. However, I accept responsibility for this station and the fact that the Decepticon outside has inflicted considerable damage."

"Why does Lord Loch'na'a'aroun speak in the tongues of the flesh creatures?"

The five-faced switched faces again, this time to the creepy green and yellow face. It chuckled. "It always pleases me to demonstrate my knowledge. After all, once we have made our profits off the Humans, there won't be any records regarding their languages or their culture. I feel that by knowing how they speak, something will survive them-something that belongs to the Continuum. I find this whole affair stimulating: Destruction, death, the demise of the Autobots and thereafter, Cybertron. Earth is ground zero for many, many possible clientele. Once we have complete control, we shall build cities the likes of which the galaxy has not seen."

The Quint on the left pointed his laser rod toward Loch'na'a'aroun. "You keep forgetting about the Resistance on the other continent. They're still trying to find the base-"

The Quintesson lord's tentacles snapped then settled. "Even as we speak, Nord du'auth is searching for the Resistance. We shall drink their blood as they die."

"Not soon enough for the Inoux." The other single-faced Quint snapped. "They expected us to be more efficient-"

"I am painfully aware of what they expected." Loch'na'a'aroun answered curtly. "Now come. I wish to watch the rest of the Autobots die."

Dezi and Pasley crouched as close to the metal flooring as they could while the three Quintessons passed them. Neither Human dared do so much as blink until the trio of freaks were at a safe distance. Then Dezi leapt from the nook and ran as softly as her shoes permitted, only too grateful the suit allotted her so much ability to move. Pasley, encased in EDC exo-suit armor, followed at a much slower pace, struggling to keep metal-shod feet from slapping and stamping the floor.

Galvatron was amazed as Optimus led him down one darkened corridor, through two unoccupied rooms and downstairs. It was as if suddenly he knew exactly where to find the prisoners. They found the Autobots in a huge metal hall, standing behind energon bars.

A pathetic lot, the Decepticon thought gravely. They stared at the two as if they weren't even there. No cheers, no shouts for rescue, no gratitude. Just long sad stares.

Prime approached the first cell. "Where's the control panel?"

"You'll never get us out of here." One Paratron mourned. "The Quints use a remote control to release the bars."

Prime stared back, a million thoughts ran through his mind. Faintly they could hear explosions and shouts as jets criss-crossed, struggling to capture the lone Decepticon jet. Prime turned to Galvatron. "We could hot wire our weapons to the cells and overload their capacitors."

"It would take too long." Another Autobot objected. "Our fates are sealed."

"Only if you won't try." Optimus argued. But even as he said it, three and four Paratrons turned their back on him.

Galvatron and Prime glanced at one another and then at the Paratrons. Galvatron pointed toward the doorway, his face fixed in exhortation. "If you want to die, that is your business, Autobot. But at least have the fortitude to help us free the others!"

"Fine words coming from a Decepticon!" Someone else snided.

Prime turned to her, "If you can cause a diversion, we might be able to overpower the Quintessons and free you."

"For what?" a yellow and red Paratron asked sharply. "Just so we can watch them trash what's left of Earth? Or do you plan to take us to Cybertron so we can return to our peaceful existence-"

"You are in the middle of war!" Galvatron shouted in disgust. "There are people here who need your help."

"I don't believe in fighting." The Autobot replied. "Violence begets violence."

If he had teeth, Galvatron would have flashed him a vicious toothy smile. "So you plan to fight with foul language and pursed lip components?"

"What is the use of fighting?" The femme returned, her voice stronger. "Our fates have been set before us. This is why we did not wish to join your armies. You tried to make us warriors. You tried to draft us into your precious war. But like our forefathers, we find your war repellent."

"You must fight if you wish to continue-"

"Then we will not continue." The femme answered plainly. "We moved to Cybertron to prevent the Decepticons from continuing the war. That does not mean we fought. It means that-"

Galvatron looked as though he could spit in her face. "It means that you allowed someone else to fight for you. Simpering coward! You deserve to die rather than taking space with your worthless-"

"Is there no one here who wishes to leave with us?" Optimus cut in, "We are here to help . . ." his voice died in his vocalizer. Not one Paratron-Autobot stepped forward to ask for salvation. They couldn't look Prime in the optics, either.

"No love of life." Galvatron's voice carried softly. "And no life of spirit. Sli'kikik."

Prime shot him a horrified glance at the dirty word.

The jabbering mouths of Quintesson entities filtered from the nearby corridor. Time for escape just ran out.

A high-pitched zap resounded in the next hallway. The tapping of several legs followed and the broken verbiage of Inoux-accented Autobotese snapped accusingly at the Quints.

Before Optimus and Galvatron could think of a way to hide, three Quintesson lords and two single-faced Quints ran in their direction. Two Inoux Destroyer Class pounded the metal flooring after them. One single-faced freak was blown from the back of the head, its dark blood splattered the walls and several Paratrons. Optimus drew his weapon and ended the life of one Quint. Galvatron punched the other Quint straight into energon bars, frying the half-mechanical, half-organic creature.

The Inoux squealed and snapped in their own language, actually shouting at one another. One threw back its dark triangular head and then threw it forward as though to spit at Prime. The two Transformers ducked as a stream of colored light shot out from between the Inoux's pincers. It struck something invisible in the air and a great circle flowered from nowhere, expanding in the air and remained suspended. In its circumference rippled layers of nothingness.

A transport gate.

The other Quintesson lord shouted pitifully in its native language. But the Destroyer Class ignored it.

"Here. Other Transformer. Take. These robots die on departure."

From the other hall, an Infantry Class stomped in bearing the limp form of Cyclonus over its shoulder. It fired its weapon at Paratrons as it passed them.

Optimus fired at the one Quintesson lord, kicked the other drone and encircled the throat of the talking Inoux Destroyer with his hands. The creature squealed and bucked, trying to stomp on Prime's body. But Optimus held on, trying to gain enough foothold to snap its neck. The other Destroyer moved to assist its companion when something hit it from behind.

Not Galvatron, but Dezi.

It was enough a distraction for Galvatron to shove the remaining Quint's body into the energon prison bars and kick the other Destroyer hard enough to throw it on its side. Galvatron stomped on its fragile neck. The Infantry was almost at the circle with Cyclonus. Galvatron wasn't about to leave his friend. He turned and chased the Inoux.

The Destroyer deeply bit Prime in the left shoulder, tearing into metal and slicing cable muscles. Pasley fired at its tail, cutting off the stinger. The Destroyer bucked again, this time causing Prime to slip off his feet. The Inoux charged forward, dragging the Autobot leader with him, as Prime kept a firm hold of its neck, waiting to grab onto something.

"No!" Dezi shouted. She dashed after them as they passed into the circle. Pasley tried to hold her back, but missed. Dezi leapt into the circle just as it closed.

The Destroyer above Prime tripped on its landing. Optimus took advantage of the moment and snapped its neck clean. The other Inoux, bearing Cyclonus lay dead nearby. Galvatron huddled in a corner, carefully examining his companion.

"You did not have to come." Galvatron grumbled.

"I did not have a choice." Prime answered in the same tone.

Then they both looked at Dezi. She only shrugged. "I don't like being by myself."

"You would have been safer where we were, Human." Galvatron turned his attention back to his lieutenant as Cyclonus regained consciousness.

"The name is 'Dezi', motor mouth. And don't tell me what to do."

Galvatron had to give her a second look. Then he looked to Prime. Then he frowned. "Witwicky." Optimus nodded.

Dezi found their surroundings a bit eerie. The air was cool and fresh. The walls stood dark and rounded, more like rock. To her they seemed to breathe. She gazed at Optimus who checked his weapon for payload. "Where are we?" she finally asked.

"The Inouxian mothership, most likely." He answered quietly.

"And, um, that circle we just passed through, is there another one we can possibly find to get us back on Terra Firma?"

The two leaders looked to one another to give her an answer but Dezi received none. She groaned softly.

"I suggest," Optimus said after a moment, "that we start looking for the bridge."

Galvatron sent him a dubious gaze. After all, they ended up lost on the last ship. How could they find their way around this one?

They decided to split up for the moment to cover more ground quickly. Dezi felt like a bug in some science maze. The place towered above her curving and sweeping gracefully. She walked for several minutes, finding not so much as a mouse on the vessel. "Where is everyone?" She asked Prime over the comline.

"Fighting, I'd imagine, Dezi."

"But . . . we didn't see that much fighting in town."

"I didn't say they were fighting in Central City."

She came to a spacious room, broad and well-lit. In the center stood a circular control panel and a lone operator with its back turned to her. "Prime, Galvatron, I think I found a control hub. I'd guess that's what it would be."

"Is it circular, Dezi?"

"Yes."

"It's the control and communications system. It's run by an independent mind, usually."

"What do you want me to do?"

She could hear Galvatron smile when he answered: "Ask it a question."

"What!" She demanded. "This is no time for idiocy!" But when Optimus said nothing against Galvatron's suggestion, Dezi swallowed her fear and took several steps toward the station. It loomed above her like a judges' stand. The controller's seat swiveled slowly, a soft buzzing sound emanated from the movement.

And there sat Delphra.

Dezi about fainted. She fell against the nearest wall, her eyes wide, her mouth opened but unable to utter a single sound. She couldn't take a second look. Her heart and breath stopped.

"What did you ask it?" Galvatron's voice came over her internal comline.

It was the only thing that got her breathing again. Dezi shuddered from shock. "I-I-" her voice faltered, her breath came in one gasp, then another. "I-ohmigod."

"Dezi, what's wrong?" Prime urgently asked.

"Ohmigod, Optimus. It's Aunt Delphra."

"Stay there. We're coming."

"Ohmigod."

But Delphra didn't take notice of her. Connectors and hoses snaked in and out of the woman's shaven head. Her eyes never blinked once. Her mouth remained shut, lips long since dried were caked with saliva and blood. She kept working, fingers capped with black and silver tips touched controls or switches or even pricked at invisible controls in mid-air.

Dezi recovered enough to push herself away and stepped toward the control center. She swallowed hard several times, her eyes did not leave the terrible figure of a relative that once took care of her.

"Aunt Delphra?" She weakly called. "Do you know who I am?"

No response.

"Aunt Delphra?" Dezi's own voice squeaked in her ears, giving her the impression she was merely a child in an alien dreamscape. "Aunt Delphra?" She called again. Dezi circled the control station as Delphra's chair spun from one direction to the next, touching and retouching controls.

"Delphra?"

Finally the eyes blinked and the head of wires and hoses turned mechanically in Dezi's direction. "You. New drone?"

Dezi swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

"New series will be conducted."

"Aunt Delphra, it's Dezi. I'm your niece."

Another blink of eyes that mirrored shock. "Yes. There was another life here."

Dezi found herself torn between bitter tears and curiosity. How could she separate herself from her situation and her love for a family member? Where was her objectivity?

Jax. She thought of Jax, a man who lost everything and adopted her. Dezi forced herself to decide that the creature before her now was not her Aunt Delphra, but something else entirely, something that looked like Delphra, but was not Delphra. Aunt Delphra was dead. Dead and gone. Dezi drew a deep breath and thought of Jax and how she promised to bring him ice cream. That was what she was here for. She made a promise.

The young woman scraped her courage together and swallowed hard. "Tell me of your station." She asked unemotionally.

"I am Prime of Thirteen." The dead Delphra answered evenly.

"Prime of Thirteen? What is that?"

Optimus' voice sounded behind her, "She is a Prime, Dezi. A controller of thousands of machines and operations. It's how the Quintessons control their troops and stations, keeping in constant contact and deployment of guard. No doubt, she also controls the ship itself."

Dezi looked back at Optimus and her eyes could not have been wider. Many unanswered questions suddenly fell into place. A Prime, a leader of the Autobots was . . . a controller? Was that its origins? Now millions of new questions budded in her mind, but Dezi knew this was not the time to ask them.

"You have opened a dialog with the controller." Galvatron pointed as Cyclonus stepped up behind him. "Ask it about the present situation."

Dezi nodded. "Prime of Thirteen," she called. Dead Delphra gazed unblinking at her, but attending her just the same. "What is the present status?"

"Two hundred forty disconnected. Waiting for report on south by south-west. Silence on eastern front. Quintessons advancing from the north side. Vank considering obliteration of Quintesson troops, will negotiate with other in south-western continent."

Dezi shook her head. "I don't understand what she's saying."

"The Quints and Inoux here have been fighting for quite some time." Optimus translated. "That explains why things have been so quiet here. The Inoux have had two hundred and forty casualties and they've set up reconnaissance on the eastern front. The commander here, Vank, is about to give orders to simply kill off all the Quintessons in this area. Apparently, the Quintessons here have either betrayed the Inoux or failed to fulfill promises."

Dezi wrinkled her brows. "How do you know all that?"

Optimus hesitated for a long moment. He even bowed his head then lifted it again, his optics cast on the Dead Delphra. "The Inoux, Dezi, are ancient enemies of Cybertron."

Another circle began to unfold in mid air. Galvatron and Prime glanced at one another and then at Dead Delphra.

"Ohmigod." Dezi moaned. "What do we do?"

There was no time to answer her. Four black shapes charged through the disk, two of them Assassin Class. One aimed directly for Optimus Prime. Galvatron tried to block it but the damn thing slipped under his aim and tackled Prime, smashing him directly into the wall. Cyclonus drew his weapon but was attacked by an Infantry. Galvatron leapt fast enough to avoid the other Assassin as it swept claws and aimed a kick. Galvatron landed on the other side of the creature and slammed his fist into its head. It stumbled, regained its balance and crouched low, readying for a spring.

Optimus' attacker aimed a punch but he ducked and slammed his whole body into its middle, shoving it toward the control center. It bounced off, flying through the air as if it had wings. Optimus played one move then turned and gave it a hard right-cross instead. This time the Assassin did loose its balance. However, an Infantry Class quickly replaced the Assassin and snapped in front of the Autobot leader. Optimus jabbed it twice before sending it sailing across the room with a terrific kick.

Dezi was grateful the Inoux did not regard her as more than a fly in the room. She laid her hands on the control center and gazed up, up toward the controller. "Prime of Thirteen?" She asked, praying her little voice could be heard over the fighting. "Can you . . ." she didn't want to use the 'crash' word, "Can you land the ship?"

"Justification?"

Dezi blinked, unsure what the controller was asking. She assumed it wanted a reason. Think, think! She told herself. Prisoners? "Prisoners and raw materials?" It was a long shot.

"Non sequitur."

It was like receiving an F on a test! Dezi sighed. Think! She drew a deep breath. "Aunt Delphra, if you're in there at all, anywhere at all, you MUST land this vessel!" She heard Optimus groan in pain and she watched just as he slammed into the Assassin with both hands and kick it once. He threw himself on it and snapped its head clean off its shoulders.

"Delphra," Dezi's voice strengthened. "You must land the ship! I don't know what clearance you need, but you must land the vessel!"

No response.

Dezi slammed her back against the station, frustrated. Galvatron was slashed across the chest by an Assassin's hand. He missed it as it ducked and kicked him in the thorax. It kicked him again in the chin, forcing him to flip backwards. All three were losing. Dezi swung back around, determined. "Aunt Delphra, if you do nothing else in your entire miserable life, do one thing right. You've always said how you felt your life was empty, that you'd never amount to anything. Now's your chance to prove yourself wrong! LAND THE FREAKIN' SHIP!"

Recognition finally darkened Delphra's face. Her cheeks flushed from pale to deep red. "Witwicky DNA required for down payment." And she pressed buttons and switches left and right.

One Inoux Assassin screamed a shrill cry. The moment was enough for Optimus to blow its head off. But the companion Infantry slammed into him, wrested the gun out of Prime's hand and fired at Dead Delphra. The control board sparked as wires and hoses connected to Delphra snapped and melted. Electricity danced and sizzled over the board as Delphra's form slumped over, revealing that the lower half of her trunk was also missing, mechanized by some twisted form of Quintesson science. Dezi screamed at the horrific sight, but her scream was cut short when the whole ship tilted. The Infantry produced a tiny box and pointed it at the wall. Another circle blossomed to life. Optimus used the moment to blow its head off and he managed to pull himself to his feet and tear Cyclonus' opponent away. "Dezi!" Prime cried, "leap through the gate!"

She tried but the ship rocked further in one direction, causing her to loose her balance and slip. The Infantry turned on Prime, disabling him enough to drag him through the circle. Galvatron's Assassin tried to escape, but Galvatron jumped its back and could only hold on as it leapt through. Cyclonus managed to force himself back on his feet and he reached for Dezi. But the same Infantry that dragged Optimus out, came back and kicked Cyclonus in the back. Without losing a second, it grabbed the Decepticon by his horns and hauled him through just as the circle closed.

Dezi screamed, terrified. The ship tilted until she was forced to lay on the wall.

Outside, the Inouxian mothership tilted straight northward, flying out of control. It swept downward and leveled just enough so that it crashed directly into the Quintesson manufacturing facility. The resulting explosion obliterated everything in a ten-mile radius.

Everything was obliterated.

Except the ship.

Dezi came to. The world lay dark and dead silent. She crawled about, blind and trembling. Then she lay still for a long time, weeping.

After that, she gathered herself together. She was alive.

She was alive!

And the Resistance was on its own.

To Be Continued in Chapter 6

T.L. Arens


	6. Parallel Happenstance

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 6  
**Parallel Happenstance**

**LOCATION: HYPERSPACE**

**EARTH DATE: NOVEMBER 15, 2038**

Galvatron moaned to life. His repair systems complained. Sand painfully crunched between his joints. His exostructure pricked with dents, scratches and leaking tears. The rent across his chest eked minute mech fluids. The tear looked worse than it really was. His repair systems swiftly mended damaged routers, closing wounds internally and coagulated much of the bleeding. Soon his frame would be back the way it was before-

-before what? His optics stared at a patchy sky with clouds of green, blue, peach and a scattering of floating meteors. The more rational part of Galvatron's processors informed him Earthen skies never, ever looked like that-especially with the sizable floating meteors.

No . . . there must have been a fight. A serious one. He could not even recall the odds.

Galvatron rolled his head to the right and scanned dark jagged rock formations squatting or towering around him.

There lay a body part a few yards away. What was that, a leg? An arm? A . . . an Inoux?

The Decepticon shot up with a start. His power core vibrated hard inside his chest. He swiftly glanced this way, that, reorienting himself.

The fight! The ship! Prime!

Galvatron wanted to jump up and walk, but his body objected, forcing him on hands and legs. He crawled along a dusty ground scattered with dark rocks and Inouxian body fragments. Prime's fallen form lay a few yards off.

Where was Cyclonus? And how was it that the air, though cold, was oxygenated?

Attend, he ordered himself. Prime lay face down, unmoved. Deep cuts and a few dents marred the surface of his companion's body. He touched the Autobot's shoulder strut then his hip plate. "Prime?"

No response.

Galvatron examined the Autobot's face for signs of consciousness. A light grey color diminished the Autobot's lively red and blue hues. A bit of frost dusted Prime's audio receptors and finger tips. Galvatron slowly turned the Autobot on his back and scanned vital signs. Responding to the Decepticon's warm touch, Prime's optics dimmed on but Galvatron questioned whether it was an automatic reaction or if his companion was honestly conscious.

Out the corner of his optic, Galvatron spotted a dark shape slipped off or around a nearby boulder. The Decepticon jumped to his feet, fully alert and ready for a fight.

Where was Cyclonus? He could call out. But Galvatron thought it foolhardy to make any noise.

A pool of dark Inouxian blood splashed around the boulder and what was left of a Destroyer Class's head. The head lolled to the left, lost balance and rocked along its rounded topside. The movement caused Galvatron to snap his sensors left, right, up and out like a nervous bird. Memories of their struggle shot through his cranial chamber. Legs, arms, torsos and heads littered the ground like so much trash after a music concert. There. That was one he slaughtered. It lay in three or four pieces.

Over there lay the Inoux Optimus tore into. Galvatron cringed. He could not recall seeing Prime so enraged. And that voice he used; demonic. He didn't just kill the Inoux, he ripped it asunder with his bare hands. Galvatron knew Optimus had a temper, in spite of the Autobot leader's iron-clad self control. This savagery was not of the Autobot he knew. But his rage saved Cyclonus' life

Prime's fingers twitched. He drew a deep cold breath and coughed. The Decepticon's shoulder struts slumped in relief; a sign of hope. But Galvatron realized tactically their position was too much in the open. An eighth of a mile away lay a better clump of rocks and spires; a place around which they could duck should they get shot at, or worse, ambushed.

Galvatron squatted and lapped Prime's arm across his shoulder line. With one supportive arm across Prime's back, Galvatron stood, hoping that moving around might bring Optimus out of his daze.

"Come on, Soldier," he softly grunted, "up and forward." It took a moment and a few dragged paces before Optimus started to come around. His steps were small and a bit clumsy. Galvatron paused often. His own repair systems gave him warnings and complaints. But he was a Decepticon and stubbornly endured the difficulty.

Gradually Optimus straightened and his posture and color improved.

They made it across the dusty expanse, dodging Inouxian body parts, rocks and other unusual debris. Galvatron carefully lowered his companion amid a small circle of iron-ore stones. Prime did not protest, nor said a word. Was he even aware of where he was?

Galvatron doubted it.

The sound of a familiar engine faded into his audios and Galvatron greeted Cyclonus as the former Decepticon lieutenant transformed and gracefully landed. Galvatron set fists on hips, not realizing he took on his habitual "I'm-in-charge" posture.

"I have spotted no other life forms, Galvatron." Cyclonus reported. "However, there is an asteroid approximately seventeen clicks from here upon which is an unusual EMW disturbance."

"That's it?" Galvatron wondered if the three of them were condemned to remain in exile.

"There are skeletal remains on four other asteroids. I do not know their species."

The former Decepticon leader frowned. The situation looked bleak. But at least the three of them were alive and not terminally damaged. He tried to triangulate their position, but there were no stars in the sky. They resided on one of several pieces of floating rock in the middle of nowhere. Colorful gaseous clouds passed overhead, promising nothing. Galvatron could not even tell what kind of gasses they were. The asteroid's composition seemed typical enough: iron-ore, magnesium, a layer of dust and deteriorated matter.

"How is he?" Cyclonus' voice brought Galvatron out of his dour musings.

"I do not know. He seems conscious, but offline." Galvatron did not acknowledge his companion's puzzled expression. He had no answers at the moment.

"What can we do, Galvatron?

"We will wait, Cyclonus. Time will present its own opportunity."

. . . there was a third Inoux waiting for them when they landed from Earth.

Delphra. Dead and cold. Her form and mind mangled by Quintesson science

. . . a tiny box pointed at the wall . . . a deporter. It was a deporter, but Optimus never learned how to operate one.

Hyperspace.

Damn.

Rusti was going to kill him.

"There you go again. Always fussing over the baby."

Baby Bird.

"LAND THE FREAKIN' SHIP!"

A Destroyer Inoux lashed at Cyclonus. Two Assassins kept Galvatron on his toes.

They tried to pin Prime, but his rage ran raw. Darkness fed on Inouxian death. White heat seared Prime's chest and Darkness churned inside him; a painful pleasure. More misery. More pain. Make them squirm like a bloody worm.

Prime ripped off legs and broke two necks. He took on one of Galvatron's opponents. He pried his fingers into that Destroyer's jaws and ripped them apart. He kicked the carcass away and caught an Assassin Class as it dropped its weapon and ran for its life. Prime mowed it down in auto mode. Even Galvatron and Cyclonus cringed when the Inoux squealed in terror.

The Darkness remained unsatisfied. It breathed the suffering in like a super-drug and it reeled drunkenly with the emotions of shock, agony and death.

Prime fell to his knees and stared. At first he felt nothing. No sorrow, no remorse. No elation over the death of an enemy.

Then it hit him; a windstorm of guilt. All the death he caused throughout his life. Certainly his occupation as warrior was not enough to excuse his actions. How many lives? How many families? Cities? Planets? They were all contaminated.

HE was to blame. HE brought the war everywhere he went. It spread like the Hate Plague.

Prime laid on the ground, smothered in remorse. He wished he could simply self-destruct. Shut down.

Die.

No more flowers and rainstorms. No more laughter and Saturday morning cartoons.

Optimus shuddered from systems overload.

"Rest for a while. Come on." The familiar voice whispered softly in his audios as his companion guided him to lie in the cool dust. More of Prime's systems shut down as his mind drifted from reality. He sensed jagged rocks about him. He felt cool temperatures. A stiff breeze kissed his aching body. The light faded and Prime fell asleep.

Galvatron sat amid dead silence. His optics skittered right to left and occasionally to the backside. But there was not one living thing other than he, Cyclonus and Prime.

"Perhaps the one asteroid with the EM field might be a clue as to our escape, Galvatron."

Cyclonus' deep voice was a welcomed sound but the former Decepticon leader did not respond right away. He frowned, undecided. "I would ask you to make another run, Cyclonus, except that it would be costly."

"What of the device the one creature used to bring us here?"

"Device?"

Cyclonus left Prime and Galvatron for a few moments, flying off and returned with a small black box in hand. He gave it to Galvatron who stared at it long enough to remember something else. He reached into a subspace pocket and compared it to another little black object he found on Mars. Five buttons, digital readout; a hematite facing. Galvatron stared at his companion.

"I believe that is responsible for us being here." Cyclonus explained.

Galvatron silently nodded. The problem was, he had no idea how it worked. He stared at his replica but could not decide whether or not to press the buttons. His optics drifted to Prime and he thought it over a moment longer. "We will wait for Prime, Cyclonus. We go together."

Undetermined time drifted before Optimus stirred, sullen and depressed. His body ached as much as his heart. He slowly sat up and examined his surroundings with fleeting glances in three directions before finding Galvatron.

The Decepticon slumped against steadfast rocks, optics dimmed in rest. Cyclonus stood not far off, keeping guard.

Prime could not recall walking or crawling to this clump of rock. His sight rested on the debris field some twenty yards, ten o'clock of his position.

"Well rested?"

Prime greeted the dour Cyclonus with a simple look then a silent nod. Galvatron stirred from his rest and offered a small smile. He stood and bent back to loosen stiff joints. Optimus, however, had no incentive to move. He could sit there eternally and rust, for all he cared.

"We seemed to have been stranded in the middle of nowhere." Galvatron announced.

"Should have taken a left turn at Albuquerque." Prime had no idea why he said that. It might have been automatic, something regarding Loony Tunes and Saturday mornings. Whatever it was, he cracked a joke so private that both Decepticons stared at him as if he had lost his mind. The statement was completely out of context and made the moment awkward. Prime hunched over. His mind deteriorated moment to moment and he knew it would eventuate to some slobbering vegetative state. (Yes, another human reference, but when on Earth . . .)

He hoped someone would be kind enough to end his life at that point.

Galvatron recovered from his puzzlement over the Autobot's behavior. Optimus clearly had been on Earth far too long and probably suffered from watching too much of the fleshling's entertainment cube.

Television, the Decepticon corrected himself. He shook his head. "Cyclonus and I cannot triangulate our current position, Prime. There are no constellations, no planetary bodies or other living things within a -" he glanced to his former lieutenant for the correct estimation.

"Forty click."

"Forty click radius," Galvatron repeated.

Prime stared at the Decepticon struggling to piece together events and places. Dezi. The Inouxian ship and the fight that explained the debris. Prime wondered how long it would be before they were discovered. He turned away. "I should not have murdered the Inoux."

The Decepticon studied his companion. Autobots were such sentimental people. He sometimes wondered how they managed to survive at all, let alone throughout their ages-long history. Galvatron frowned. He thought it valiant that Prime was so willing to help his companions, former enemies or not. "Your guilt complex serves no purpose." Galvatron worded his phrase flat and final. As far as he was concerned, what Prime did merely gave them another opportunity to survive. He killed an enemy. That was that.

But Optimus brooded. He prayed Primus forgave him for such hatred.

Galvatron had to get the Autobot's fleeting attention back on track. "Cyclonus discovered skeletal remains on another asteroid and strange EMW pulses on yet another."

Prime concentrated on the brief field report and now wondered where they were. He met Galvatron's unswerving gaze and decided to gather his will and his strength and stand. Galvatron was right: it was time to move forward. His body complained of battle fatigue but Optimus ignored it, shutting off all pain receptors. He took a much closer inspection of their surroundings: the clump of rocks and boulders, the near-flat region, the debris-riddled ground and slight breezes sweeping up the dust. He examined the sky and colorful gaseous clouds flitting at uneven paces. In the distance his optics spotted a few other floating objects.

"Hyperspace." he assessed. "We seem to be trapped in hyperspace." Galvatron crossed his arms and scowled. Optimus took that gesture to mean that he already knew that. He turned to Cyclonus. "The asteroid where you found the EM emissions: can you take me there?"

"Yes." Cyclonus voiced quietly. "But how is that relevant to our current situation?"

"It might be a gateway."

"Oh." the two Decepticons chorused.

Prime felt a bit awkward flying on Galvatron's back as the three of them made their way through the asteroid field. There was more debris than the Decepticon lieutenant first reported. Scattered bits of metal and bone fragments littered the atmosphere indicating either the destruction of a ship, or a battle once took place long ago.

They landed on the small asteroid in question. Cyclonus lighted first then Galvatron who hovered above ground, expecting Prime to fall 'accidentally'. But Optimus landed like a cat and ignored the close-call prank.

Galvatron touched ground and flashed the Autobot a grin. "You really should learn how to fly."

"I already have."

The tease fell flat on Optimus and Galvatron practically growled inside. He hoped they could get along a little more easily. Patience, he reminded himself.

Cyclonus led them to a set of great metal pinnacles standing two hundred Earth-stories high and the width of a football field. The pinnacles themselves were smooth and ancient. Burn marks scarred the inner sides and dust settled along the more slanted areas. Prime glided his hand across the blue-silver surface. Sparks of electro-magnetic waves lit under his touch.

"Impressive." he said softly. "This hyperspace bubble obviously belongs to the Inoux. They must have created it for the sole purpose of moving entire armies."

"A hyperspace bubble?" Galvatron echoed. "I did not think there was such a thing."

"No. Not naturally." Prime answered evenly. "This was manufactured for several purposes. Transporting between worlds is only one of them. It appears-" and here Prime faced his two companions, "-they also use it to dispose of unwanted prisoners."

"You mean like us." Cyclonus added.

Optimus shook his head. "I don't think so. There were other Inoux waiting here, remember?" Neither Decepticon had an answer and Prime turned away, struggling to come up with a plan.

"Every gate has a key." Galvatron's voice came soft, talking to himself. Optimus silently watched as the former Decepticon leader produced one of the black boxes. His red optics climbed the breadth of the wall in serious consideration.

Before Prime realized what happened, an eruption drowned his audios like one of Blaster's loudest pieces of music. A great burst of energy tossed the three of them like twigs. Their bodies dug deep trenches into the soft dirty ground. They lay in uncomfortable positions until Prime half-sat and turned right as Galvatron's legs untangled themselves and he lay spread-eagle, staring into the sky.

"What was that?" the Autobot asked suspiciously.

"Erm. Wrong button." And Galvatron lifted his right hand clutching the little black box.

"Don't EVER press that button again."

Galvatron turned a bit stiffly, peering over the mound of dirt surrounding his helm and gave Prime a Cheshire grin. He sat up and tried another button. No result. "Crappy room service here." And he pressed another one.

"Running out of options." Prime mused quietly.

"Do YOU want to press one?" Galvatron asked sharply.

"No."

"Then be quiet. I'm concentrating." The Decepticon's thumb lightly touched from Remaining Button Number One to Number Two and then Number Three in a dance of indecision. Optimus thought of one of Rusti's games of Inny-minny-mighty-moe. Back and forth. Yellow, blue or white?

"Galvatron, will you please just pick one?"

"Neygh!!" The Decepticon pointed the device at the wall. Prime and Cyclonus cringed. A laser line shot the wall, ricocheted and slammed into a chunky asteroid. The space rock blew and showered everything with fine grains of sand. The three of them flattened their bodies face down until the bubble universe was quiet again.

Optimus gave Galvatron the 'evil optic'.

"Remember that, Cyclonus." Galvatron tried to ignore Prime's dirty look, "Do NOT press the white button." He ignored Cyclonus' snarl and tried the blue button. Blue was always a good color.

The expanse between the pinnacles turned dark and glowed softly round the edges. Prime stood first and with a glance at either of his companions, took the first steps. Cyclonus followed, glancing back at Galvatron who twitched as sand grinded in the crevices in his joints "Blue." he softly reminded himself. "Press the BLUE button. Blue is good. Blue is god."

Prime passed through the darkness into a poorly-lit alleyway. Trash lined the ground and stacked against neighboring buildings. The street ahead lay quiet, moistened by late-night fog. Peering round the corner, Prime spotted an organic life form clothed in a shabby coat and an old hat. The person in question stumbled while lifting a bottle of liquid to his lips.

The place promised safety and Prime's first thought was to search for a space port.

Then he spotted a sign: DECEPTICON TRANSFORMER FOR SALE. SOME DAMAGE. He waited until Galvatron stepped through the portal then dragged his two companions against the wall and signaled them to remain quiet. A night light from a nearby restaurant illuminated his companions in eerie colors, casting demonic shadows over their faces.

Galvatron gave him a disgusted expression. "You look terrible, Prime."

"Sh! I don't think this is a good place to be-"

"You wish to go back to the bubble?"

"That's NOT what I said!"

Galvatron shook his head, his optics a bit cross. "Will you relax? We're going to be just fine. All we need is information from an intergalactic postal service-"

Galvatron's words were cut off when the three of them heard the electric snap of an energy whip and the cry from a robot's vocalizer. The three Transformers slipped from the light above. At the mouth of the alley, a robot in chains crossed their vision. He was a large lumbering sort who probably could match Grimlock's strength. His arms and feet were bound in energo-chains and a marred Decepticon symbol decorated a damaged and smoldering shoulder strut. Behind him followed a small group of organics in warm clothing and hats. One flicked the whip. The poor robotic captive cried out and two organics ballyhooed at the cheap entertainment.

Prime's internal language translator swiftly adjusted and rearranged their speech patterns:

"Good! Did I not say a Transformer would be an enjoyable investment?"

Galvatron yanked him out of the alleyway's light and against the solid rock wall. His red optics were wide with fearful realization.

"We're in trouble." Prime whispered.

"Plan?" Galvatron asked.

"Not yet."

"Well THINK FAST! I don't want to be ANYBODY'S plaything!!"

Prime glanced about until his optics found the flat rooftops above them. He pointed upward. "There. And DON'T fly. They might detect your trails."

Without argument, the two Decepticons crawled up the walls followed by Prime. He glanced down now and again, searching the alleyway for tracks they might have left. But the place was so littered with refuse that only someone who really knew what they were looking for could find their tracks. He joined his companions on the rooftop where they crouched close to an air conditioning unit.

"This is not dignifying for a Decepticon." Galvatron complained. "Where the Pitt are we?"

"I don't know yet. There are many planets that enslave Transformers, Galvatron."

Cyclonus stared at Prime in mild surprise. "We must be clear out of the Sagittarius Arm in the Milky Way to encounter those."

"Very true, Cyclonus." Optimus agreed. "Until we can find our way back to the Outside Territories of the Milky Way, I suggest we pick no fights."

Galvatron crawled to the building's edge and peered down. Activity slowly increased with the oncoming morning light. Transformers bussed the organics to and fro. When one finally parked before a shop, its owner stepped out and zapped it with some sort or disabling device. An Autobot femme carried a baby on her back, one in her right arm and held the hand of another organics offspring with her left. A control collar softly glowed about her neck while the female owner laughed in conversation with a companion.

The universe suddenly felt huge. Here the Decepticon Empire held no control, no footing whatsoever. Here they had no power. And Prime said this was one of many such worlds? Galvatron longed to see Cybertron and Earth again. Home.

Their way of life, their stupid war, their home world was all gone; all in the hands of their hated former Quintesson masters.

Galvatron crawled back to Optimus; crawled back to the one piece of security he had and bowed his head and thanked God he had a friend.

* * *

**LOCATION: Space Gate 09-A**

**Earth Date: November 2, 2038**

A thunderous clapping reverberated throughout the ship. The Autobot vessel heaved and rocked sharp left then deep right. The rocking motion tossed Rusti off her bed. She landed shoulders first before the rest of her slid across the room. Several crates tumbled edge-over-end and scattered their contents, most of which just missed her.

Rusti gathered herself and found her balance. Emergency lighting switched on and Springer announced another 'bump coming up'.

The ship bucked and tilted with such force that the girl not only slapped the wall again, but slid up as the vessel lost its coordinates. She screamed when the unconscious form of an injured Autobot escaped his restraints and thudded two inches from her.

Slowly the ship righted itself again. The wounded Autobot fell away and Rusti slipped to the floor. The girl wondered if the bridge would be any safer. She approached the door on unsteady legs and a rapid heart rate. The ship shuddered again with less impact. But the hit was enough to short the lights above. They flickered about her, white then red. Creepy shadows sneaked in and out of corners. Rusti slapped her hands against the medbay doors and they opened on her third attempt. She fell onto the corridor floor dominated by red emergency lighting. To her left and down a ways, Hotspot ripped open a panel and snapped out three long wires. He produced a circuit board from subspace and replaced the wires between it and other components deeper within the ship's wall. "That's it, Runka. Give it a go!"

Rusti got off her hands and feet and backed against the wall when Lightspeed raced by in auto mode.

"HOLD ON TO YOUR GYROS, GUYS, WE'RE TAKING ON ANOTHER-"

Springer did not need to finish his sentence. Lasers roared into the Runka's starboard and the ship dove, tossing passengers and crew. The artificial gravity cut off and Rusti struggled to find something, anything to cling to. She heard commotions from both ends of the corridor while Hotspot raced to put out potential plasma fires. But he too could not control his floating form.

Groove swam through the air, using the walls to 'air-hop'. "Boss!" he shouted. Another explosion from nearby conference quarters momentarily drowned Groove's words. "They can't restore gravity controls 'til you repatch the timbre lines!"

Hotspot grasped the smaller Protectobot, "Groove! Do I look like I have a choice of duties here?"

Groove only appeared he had an answer. But he glanced over his shoulder strut and spotted Rusti flaying her arms in a vain attempt to get back to the floor. "No, sir," he answered. The demolitions expert twisted from Hotspot and caught Rusti with his left hand. Again, he would have greeted her but another explosion boomed through the corridor, forcing the two Autobots to hide their faces; Groove protected Rusti with his body. The ship, tattered by damage, flared with emergency lights and plasma fire. Heat filled the corridor.

Groove set the girl on his shoulder and she held on tight while he undid the panel next to the main deck's double doors.

Rusti became very sleepy and struggled to stay awake while Groove's deft fingers rerouted wiring and replace several proto-cesium chips and ionic redirectors.

Drills and bolt drivers whirred madly while Hotspot, Perceptor and Lightspeed rushed to patch the gaping hole. Groove gave his friends a single glance.

"GRAV CONTROLS SWITCHING!" He warned. But his words did not come soon enough. Lightspeed and Perceptor fell head-first when gravity took hold once again. The lights still flickered and smoke from burnt metal filled the hall, stinging Rusti's eyes. Groove let her down with a bit of a smile.

Rusti stepped away as other Autobots from Fort Sonix joined Lightspeed and Perceptor. They worried about its resistance to another attack. Disconcerted with the dour news, the girl decided not to hear the rest.

Rusti made her way round the corridor, past the hatchway and just as she reached the bridge doors, Brainstorm bolted out with a repair kit in hand, allowing her in unnoticed by the bridge crew.

She hugged into a corner and watched as personnel rushed to control burning panels and reroute power. Springer lay under one control station, frantically bypassing circuit panels while Kup tried to jury-rig things topside. Sideswipe raced to control navigation.

"GET ME COMMUNICATIONS!!" Magnus bellowed.

"Tryin'!" Springer shouted. "The Quints have jammed our frequencies! I can't even get ship-to-ship with Jazz!"

"Holy Primus on silicon wafers!" Kup breathed. All optics and eyes turned to the view screen where a sleek wide-winged vessel zipped right for them and missed them by millimeters. Rusti cringed, expecting impact. The ship gently rocked and the bridge crew gave a collective sigh of relief.

Rodimus pushed himself to his feet. "Springer, it would be really wonderful if you could get communications up right now-RIGHT NOW, Springer."

The wrecker punched the console's facing and shot Roddi a dirty look. "The thing's busted. Want me to stop at an intergalactic Radio Shack and pick up a few things?" His comments were ignored and following Roddi's optics, the Autobot warrior gaped at the view screen.

Images of two Quintesson cork-screw ships blinked in between static transmissions. A small white dot sparked from one of them and Rodimus gasped.

"SHIELDS!" Rodimus ordered.

"Negative!" Kup shouted back. "This pocked-marked, shaft-blown rust bucket is headed for full head-on collision."

Rodimus leapt like a cat to the control panels and re-worked everything at lightening speed, struggling to redirect power flow from whatever source the ship could possibly give. At the last minute, Rodimus used life-support to give the forward shields half a chance.

He got them up just half a second before the Runka took on the full blast of a Quintesson Eclipse Fragmentor bomb.

The roar of hurricane-force winds could not have matched the ear-shattering sound that shook the Runka. Wave after wave of electro-magnetic energy rattled the ship's exterior while the crew and passengers within suffered sensual, motor and some brain damage. The ship crackled as its armored alloys disintegrated. Navigation, weapons control and sensor consoles blew apart, showering the deck with sparks and fogging the air with burning equipment. Emergency lighting flashed on, off, on, off then died. The impact tossed Kup across the deck. Landfill from Fort Sonix smashed face-first into the wall beside the view screen.

Two EDC officers flew through the air. One person landed with his back to the navigation panel, now engulfed with plasma fire. He was already dead. The other landed on top of Springer and slumped off, unconscious.

Static crossed the audio panels and Rodimus managed to lift his head enough to glance through damaged optics and a bleeding forehead. "Springer . . . Springer . . ." his voice was dying with his consciousness. " . . . open frequencies, Springer."

Springer lay unconscious. Magnus nearly punched a rent in the starboard bulkhead. He weakly pried himself free but his gyros were badly damaged by the Fragmentor. The Major-General had to climb over debris and two other crew members to reach the console, feeling his way around. His left arm hung useless at his side, snapping and smoldering from damage. He could see nothing and switched between visual frequencies in order to make sense of the make-shift comm panel.

Springer's work was almost done when the Quints attacked them. Magus just needed to refuse the conjoining influx relays between the language banks and phonetic-rhythm diodes. "Patching, now." His pained voice softly filled the air.

"ALIEN SPACECRAFT, THIS IS COMMANDER TROG, INTRASYSTEMARY SECURITY. IDENTIFY YOURSELVES OR BE SHOT! THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!"

Rodimus lay back, his optics fell to darkness. Magnus collapsed afterward.

Tears choked the air from Rusti and she forced her lungs to take in metal-smoldering air. She was so weak at this point she almost could not cough.

"ALIEN SPACECRAFT, WE DEMAND AN ANSWER!!"

Rusti's vision doubled as blood rushed to her ears and from there to her brain. She weakly crawled along the floor, hoping to find Rodimus amid the sputtering light of plasma fire.

She heard the same voice repeat the command to respond and this time it registered in her head that she was the only one capable of answering. She drew another breath and sputtered. "We're under attack!" Her pathetic voice squeaked. She imagined they could not hear her mousy noises. "The Quints hit us. The Autobots . . . they're all unconscious . . . the ship's not working anymore."

Drops of blood splattered her hands and she touched her upper lip. A nice slice lay over the left side of her upper lip and another one just above her right brow.

"STAND BY, AUTOBOTS. WE ARE ACTIVATING A TRACTOR BEAM."

Dizzy and aching, Rusti crawled to Rodimus. She found him cold and lifeless. The ship trembled under her and she curled close to him in a vain search for comfort.

Minutes or hours later, the ship resembled a tomb, filled with darkness, silence and unconscious crew members. Rusti's head ached and spun. Sleep was nice, but not in the cold and not on the unforgiving floor. And yet the very last thing she wanted to do was move.

Where were they? What roused her from sleep? She lifted heavy, aching eyes toward the view screen. Oddly enough, it was functioning and gave her a bit of light. But it mocked her with static.

Damn.

Get up. Off the floor. Look around, you silly girl! Up! Get up!!

But Rusti argued with herself. She was too cold. Her head ached too badly. If nobody else got up and moved, why should she?

It was a question worth taking lightly and the girl tried to settle close to Roddi's cold form and closed her eyes. He should be warmer than this. Transformers were warm-blooded machines.

Don't worry about it. Sleep.

She felt no warmer. The cold went through her armor, through her skin and into her bones. And lying on the floor wasn't all that great. Motel beds were better than this!

Rusti willed herself to her feet. It took a moment or so to steady her wobbly legs. Nobody else was even close to consciousness. Springer's form rested next to Magnus. Lightspeed lay slumped against the far wall. She thought about calling out, saying something to rouse the giant robots to life. But the world freaked her with unfamiliar shapes and more so, unfamiliar circumstances.

Rusti thought it better to find a conscious adult who knew what to do. Unfortunately, Rusti's movements were anything but steady or graceful. She fell several times, tripping over debris, slipping on spilt fluids and cracked her face into Landfill's fallen hand before finding the bridge doorway.

The doors were closed last time she checked. Perhaps the crash crossed something and forced them open. There stood naught between a dark expanse she and the hatchway.

The girl batted dry eyes against the smoky, stiff air. At this point, there was almost no light at all and Rusti debated whether or not to press blindly forward.

A faint hissing drifted from the right and sparks speckled the air. The metal burned red then slowly into white-hot as a blow torch ate through the metal paneling. Rusti staggered in that direction, wondering why they didn't just try to open the hatch from the outside. She didn't stop to think that enemies might be on the other side.

Half way there, the girl paused and wondered if she should leave Roddi by himself.

Before she could make her mind, the torch finished its work and the hatch lowered. Several tall armor-clad figures stomped in wielding powerful rifles. One pointed at her and the girl instinctively raised her hands as she batted her eyes against the glaring light of the outside world.

"The Autobots aren't here to hurt anyone." She didn't stop to think the invaders probably did not speak English.

The tall soldier approached and within twelve feet, withdrew his weapon and slung it over his shoulder. "Do not be afraid. We are not here to hurt. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" Rusti gasped. "I don't know what happened- we were hit by Quintessons. They attacked us on Earth and these huge black spider-things were everywhere and Fort Max collapsed and nobody could talk to anybody and nobody knew what was going on and Roddi had to come get me in Central City and we drove all this way-"

"Got a live one here," he said to his companions while the girl kept explaining herself. He interrupted her monolog with a calm voice. "Is everyone alright?"

"I don't know," Rusti answered wearily. "Rodimus is down, on the bridge-" she had not finished her sentence before a ten-foot tall creature in grey skin and thick plated armor stomped aboard.

"Sir, border patrols report they are still under fire. A 'Commander Convoy' repeats requests for landing clearance."

The first officer turned back to Rusti. "Who is this Convoy?"

"She's the city commander of Fortress Horizon."

"From Cybertron?"

"From Earth. We were attacked by Quintessons and some other aliens who almost killed Roddi but-"

"Alright. You can explain it to the Ambassador. Norgrov, take the girl to Zethlon-19."

"I can't leave Roddi!" Rusti objected. "He won't know I'm safe-" the two towering figures set their fists on their hips. Rusti was not in a negotiating position. "Yes, I can," she amended quickly.

The great grey creature called Norgrov took one stride for every three of Rusti's. She found herself half running after him in spite of her exhaustion.

She took several swift glances, marveling at tall grasses clothing gentle sloping hills. Huge trees crowned in graceful long leaves bordered the same sloping hills. A cloudy sky kept the air cool and moist not unlike the autumn days in Oregon. To the right and south stood the Autobot ship, Event Horizon. And near the Horizon a much larger, sleeker vessel hovered. With a powerful tractor beam, the alien ship held the Autobot cruiser, Hannibal's Mark six inches off the ground. Above them circled several smaller jets that zipped like a band of angry bees searching for a target.

Rusti's heart pounded and she felt faint.

They came to a clearing stabled by several collapsible structures of metal. People, male and female, both Human and alien came and left in hurried paces.

Norgrov paused long enough for her to catch up. He gazed down and she beheld the face of a creature more barbaric than alien. His huge dark eyes enveloped her and when he spoke, he revealed two rows of shark-like teeth. "Come. The Ambassador is most likely waiting to hear your words."

She allowed him to move first and Rusti wondered how she would plea for leeway should these people prove hostile. Butterflies turned to hornets in her stomach. Rusti forced her legs forward. The girl caught other people glancing at her, whispering as they stared. She was suddenly very conscious of her appearance, realizing she must look awful.

Norgrov led her through the curtained doorway into one such metallic tent. A woman in jeans, a sweater and a dark red robe stood to greet them. Her hands clutched a clipboard and she quickly retrieved a pen caught in her bright red hair. She seemed very much out of place compared to the alien warrior. "I received your communiqué Norgrov. Please introduce me."

He bowed slightly and stepped aside so that Rusti now faced her. "Forgive me, Lady Mage. I know not her name. I was ordered to bring her to the Ambassador. She is non-mechanical, bearing only this exo-suit. We thought it more prudent than the other refugee who wore the armor as Tal Zh'goth described."

Then both their eyes fell on the girl and Rusti suddenly found herself on the spot. She couldn't breathe. The so-called Lady Mage smiled warmly. "What is your name?" she asked politely.

"Wh-um, Rusti." Pathetic, the girl thought. She cleared her throat and tried again: "Rusti Witwicky, Ma'am. We-" her words caught in her throat. She did not know what else to say and clearly it seemed they were not really after much more than her name.

"My name is Nikita Summers. I will take you to see the Ambassador in a moment. Will you wait here?"

Rusti mutely nodded, not knowing what options she might have had otherwise. The Lady Mage and the warrior stepped outside and Rusti just barely heard their whispers. She Reached toward Rodimus in hopes of finding him conscious. But Roddi was far, far away. Despair touched Rusti. She was very much on her own.

The Lady Mage returned and offered Rusti another warm smile. "Will you accompany me, please?" She opened the curtain for Rusti to pass through and then led the girl across the encampment to another metal tent. It was a bit warmer in this one with a soft light brown rug, a low-level table, several comfortable chairs and a bed covered with fur.

"Ah, THERE you are!" A cheerful voice greeted the ladies from behind and the Lady Mage turned with soft laughter. "I was told you'd be here!"

Rusti's eyes settled on a creature no taller than she. He resembled a cat with large black eyes, a squared mouth and short ears. He was covered head to toe in short fuzzy fur but wore clothes-oddly enough jeans, a low-cut sweater and a long teal blue coat.

"I was out for the moment, listening to Trog's report interrupted by several four-letter words. And who might this be, Ki?"

"Ambassador Koontah, I'd like you to meet Rusti Witwicky. She and three other people were the only ones they found conscious on board the ship."

The ambassador shot the Lady Mage a sharp look, "this girl is cold. She needs soup and warmer clothes." He stripped off his own coat and placed it over Rusti's shoulders then guided her to sit at the bedside. He sat next to her and stared deeply into her eyes, brushing aside tangles of red hair. Rusti was not aware she was in such a condition. She watched the Lady Mage depart from the tent then turned back to the ambassador who returned her gaze with a grim expression. "I'd offer you a bit of kreefe, my dear but I've run out of it."

"It's okay," she squeaked, "I don't know what kreefe is."

He did not reply right away. His large eyes squinted slightly as though struggling to recall something: "Witwicky. Rings a bell or two."

"My grandfather was an ambassador." Rusti couldn't keep her eyes off the creature. Not that she were unaccustomed to seeing aliens, but that he looked . . . cute. The light fluctuated in the tent as a different lady stepped in bearing clothes draped over one arm and a tray of food between her hands.

"Ah, excellent timing!" Koontah praised. He swiftly dragged the table closer to the bed and aided their hostess. He grinned at Rusti as the lady lifted the cover from the tray revealing two bowls of soup and a third bowl covered with a soft white towel. The ambassador sat on the floor and beckoned Rusti to do the same. She complied, so grateful for finally getting something to eat.

"Ambassador," the lady softly sounded, "care for tea, kreefe or other?"

He looked to Rusti first. "Hot tea for me, thank you. And perhaps a cup of hot cocoa for our guest here?" Rusti weakly smiled and the ambassador nodded. "Yes, tea and cocoa. Thank you, Adana." He did not wait for her to leave before plucking up a spoon and sipped the soup. "Mm! Loyb steak soup! One of my favorites!"

Wordlessly, Rusti braved a spoonful and found it soothing. It tasted a bit like beef, but a little more like . . . well, she could not place it but it had a mild-wild flavor enhanced with garlic, carrots and another vegetable she did not recognize.

"Well, now, Miss Witwicky, you and your people popped up a bit out of nowhere. We've had no news from earth for two weeks and-"

"The Autobots did not mean to trespass, Ambassador. We were attacked and there's only a few ships left and Rodimus was terribly hurt-" Rusti regretted the outburst and bit her lip hard when Koontah held his left hand up for her silence. She batted oncoming tears and stared at the floor.

"It's alright, Miss Witwicky. You are among friends here."

She dropped her spoon and hid her face. The next minute she found herself tightly embraced and the tears came unbidden. Koontah held her close and gently stroked her hair. "Oh my dear. You have been through it, haven't you? Hmm?" His gentle voice soothed her and the girl was grateful he held her. She missed Optimus.

Koontah said nothing for a long time. Rusti ran out of tears and rested against him, fearful. She batted her wet eyes, feeling better. Reluctantly she sat up, wiped her face and blew her nose with the napkin next to her bowl.

"There was no warning, Ambassador." Her voice sounded small. "I was in school when it hit-I mean when they came." She stared far away as memories flashed through her like leaves in a hurricane. "I don't even know how I survived."

Koontah returned to his side of the table. He lifted the towel from the remaining bowl, revealing a cluster of fresh warm pretzels. He chose one and tore it, dipping one end into his soup. "Well, the worst of it is that no one knew the Quintessons had phasing technology. As to their accomplices, Miss Witwicky, that's something I'm still looking into."

Her eyes shot at him. "You mean the black spider-things?"

He smirked. "Yes, Miss Witwicky. The black spider-things." he gestured toward the bowl. "Please try one! They're very good-and they'd be good for you."

Rusti smiled sadly and plucked one up. Her mind was on anything but food. "I thought we were going to lose Roddi. They should have killed him but it seemed something else interfered. I don't know what it was except that . . . I felt like I was going through deja vu more than once." Her face tightened over the enigma. "It was weird."

"The time lines," Koontah answered after a bit of soup. "They've been shifting. Events, people, even places have been affected by dimensional fragmenting. We've been experiencing the same disruption here. It could be this fragmentation has backfired on the Quintesson's attempt to destroy your people. It's a bit ironic, but that is how the universe works sometimes."

Her brows furred, "what do you mean?"

He took another pretzel, "I mean the Quintessons have been interfering with the time lines and it's come back to bite them on the back side. For the moment their mistake is in your favor."

"Can you stop them? I mean, can you help us retake Earth?"

He played with his soup, stirring it then sipped his tea. "I don't have that kind of power, Miss Witwicky. I can provide you with assistance: supplies, directions and provisions. But we do not have the firepower necessary for that kind of task."

"But . . . but you drove the Quintessons off our ships, didn't you?"

He stared at her with those dark eyes again and Rusti wished she could control her outbursts. "The Quints were within our territory, Miss Witwicky. Naturally we were able to deal with them. But from what little news we managed to acquire from the Sol System, it seems the Quintessons have more than a few battleships and star cruisers. My guess-and forgive me that it's only a guess-but I suspect the Quintessons are going to try to open a dimensional portal in your home system. I've warned them against it before." Koontah viciously stirred his soup, "but they will ignore me just as they have in the past and if they keep doing it, they will force me to drastic measures."

She couldn't help but stare. Rusti waited for the ambassador to say something more but he did not. Tearfully she picked at the pretzel now gone cold in her hands. She gathered her courage again, "wh-what measures, Ambassador?"

He raised his eyes from the soup, "I will have to advance the time lines, Miss Witwicky." She gave him a puzzled look and finally ate more of her meal. But Koontah went on, "It always annoys me when some arrogant sl'kikik comes along-forgive my language-and intentionally upsets the time lines. Really glopches things up."

It hurt to think but Rusti thought she followed the ambassador's natterings. She leaned over, daring a guess. "So, what you're saying is . . . you have the power to change time?"

Koontah smiled pleasantly, "No. I do not have that kind of power, Miss Witwicky. I can advance time so things will stop shifting, so reality will remain constant rather than events crashing."

Rusti stared hard at the table for a moment, struggling to think things through. Then she finally started piecing events in a more cohesive whole: "Like Roddi getting killed several times before Ultra Magnus came to help us?"

Koontah stared at her in surprise then nodded, "that's right."

Adana quietly reappeared through the drapes, "Ambassador, our visitors request an audience."

A chill raced down Rusti's back. "Roddi?" she swung about, her eyes large, "Is Roddi with them?"

But Adana solemnly shook her head. "I think not, M'Lady. At least none of them introduced themselves as such."

Rusti slumped. Worry hurt her heart. Koontah quickly finished his tea and knelt before her. "I know how much you want to come but I'd much rather you rest first. You may remain here if you wish. But you will need your strength for later. Please try to get some rest."

Rusti wanted to object. Sleep was the least of her priorities. However, the ambassador was right. They were not out of danger and the next opportunity for rest might not come for quite some time. She sadly nodded and hoped Roddi was okay.

Rusti watched Koontah tie a long silky scarf over his eyes and allowed Adana to guide him.

Adana led the ambassador over grassy knolls from the clearing. A burnt metallic scent filled the cold air. Koontah smelled the bitter-wild scent of Transformer blood. Adana came to a stop and Koontah followed her example, lifting his head as though he were looking at a sky scraper. But through the blindfold, he beheld nothing.

"Ambassador Koontah, may I present to you City Commander Ultra Magnus, City Commander Jazz, City Commander Titanium and her Ladyship Arcee. Visitors and Friends, I present Ambassador Koontah of Lunarphyte, Respected of the Centaurus System."

Ultra Magnus was the first to bow slightly, having few previous encounters with the Centaurian Ambassador. Jazz and Titanium followed suit. "Ambassador, we cannot tell you how much we appreciate your hospitality and we apologize for not warning you ahead of time."

"Your apologies are far from necessary, Commander Ultra Magnus. Your representative, Miss Rusti Witwicky, has more than adequately explained your situation to us. We were not aware the Quintessons were lurking in subspace, waiting for you. I am not allowed to interfere with their business, but this is my yard and they know better than to cross the fence line . . . " Koontah paused, now a bit awkward in his approach, " . . . excuse the expression, Commander."

Charmed, Jazz knelt respectively. "Hey, ain't no a problem, Ambassador. We're all mighty grateful you were willing to put us up for the night."

Koontah bowed to him. "Now, where do we start? There are several other ships still outside of Physcian orbit. I am also aware three of your ships have taken heavy damage and you have wounded and next to no supplies-or so my reconnaissance has informed me."

Magnus nodded.

The group's attention turned when the footfalls of two other robots stepped within hearing/sensor range. Ultra Magnus' great shoulders slumped a bit when his optics rested on Roddi's weary, greyed form. Rodimus approached half supported by Fort Horizons' second-in-command, Cloudstreaker. She whispered a few things to him, but kept it too low for anyone else to hear. Rodimus nodded and came within a polite five yards of Ambassador Koontah. There he knelt among the cool grasses, fatigued and solemn.

"Ambassador Koontah, I am Rodimus Prime. I am very sorry for not greeting you first. Our landing was a miracle, thanks to your people."

Koontah observed him silently through the blindfold. A polite smile lifted his furry cheeks, though the ambassador did not show his teeth. "You apologies are unnecessary, Commander Rodimus Prime. We are always willing to help a friend. I am glad to see you are still among the living. As to your people-"

Koontah was cut off when a huge armor-clad messenger approached him and whispered in his ear. The Wancheeah's cat-like ears perked and he nodded in silent response. "Forgive me, Commander. As I was going to say, the rest of the ships are currently being escorted to this area. I've been told they should enter orbit any time now."

Roddi smiled weakly. "What would you like us to do from here, Ambassador?"

"When the rest of your group has arrived we can determine what will be necessary, Commander. I will, however, require a list of supplies your people need over the next few days. It is difficult to travel with damaged ships and hungry crew."

"It is, indeed." Roddi's expression lightened a bit. He sighed as though at a loss for breath. "Ambassador, circumstances have forced us into a precarious position. We have many casualties and have lost all contact with Mars where Optimus Prime was stationed when the invasion hit. We need more than repairs. We need better firepower. We need greater forces in order to confront the Quintessons and kick their tails across the quadrant."

Koontah's ears perked forward again and even with the blindfold, Rodimus could tell the ambassador did not agree. "Better forces? More firepower? You bring a hammer. They grab a battering ram. You draw a gun. They haul out a bazooka. You send in troops. They create an invasion force. Bigger and better will not necessarily solve your problem.'

'You need wit, not just might. You need wisdom, not simply firepower. You deal not with mere psychological subtlety or political manipulation, but with high-tech and psionic powers, with ancient abilities and skills existing even beyond the age of your species. The Inoux are not easily defeated as you have discovered, Rodimus Prime. You need an ally who shares a common interest."

Rodimus glanced at Magnus who returned his blank expression. "Aaaaaand where do we find one of those?"

Koontah shook his head. "I do not know, Rodimus Prime. I know my people have not the strength to help you fight the war. We can aid you in supply and direction. But the allies you seek must be something of your equals."

That was disheartening news. As kind and generous as the ambassador was, he was also right. "Well," Roddi sighed at length, "I don't suppose I could put a want-ad in the galactic newspaper for experienced warriors to aid a hopeless band of Autobot refugees, do you?"

Koontah offered a small smile, "the universe is vast, Rodimus Prime. I'm sure in time the right ally will come to you." He waited a beat, listening to everything around him, reading lines of life force energy that allowed him to see through the blindfold. He concentrated on Rodimus, reading low life levels, feeling the radiation of illness and despair. He felt this before with the other Autobot leader.

Koontah pulled himself from private musings and drew a deep breath. "Forgive me, Rodimus Prime, I have other matters to attend at the moment. I will see to it you and your people get everything you need for tonight. Your other vessels should arrive soon and if you need anything more, just send word."

Roddi was relieved. He needed rest and knew Magnus would insist he get it. "Thank you, Ambassador. Oh, Rusti! Is she-"

Koontah glanced over his shoulder as he turned. "She is just fine. Hopefully sound asleep."

That was not precise. Rusti slept for twenty minutes but voices and noises shook her so that even with the comfort of fur covers and a soft bed, sleep eluded her. She sat up, peeled the blankets and rubbed her face. A shower would be a magnificent luxury at this point. The girl remembered Adana brought clothes earlier and found them through the dim light. She slipped on a pair of jeans and plucked up a cozy sweater. Just before Rusti pulled the sweater on, her hand groped for the necklace to keep her hair from tangling in it.

But the necklace was not there. She dropped the sweater and searched her neck, shoulders and edges of her exo-suit for the missing treasure given her by Optimus many years ago.

"Where . . ." her voice choked with tears. "Where's my necklace? Oh no!"

She sank to her knees. "Not the necklace!" she bowed over and wept, "Optimus, I lost my necklace!" The girl hugged herself in despair. It was bad enough that she lost everything else. She did not need to lose the one connection between herself and Optimus Prime. Through her tears, Rusti checked her hands. The ring was still there, however. A bit of dirt marred its surface, but there it yet remained on her finger.

Rusti made a fist, determined to let nothing happen to her ring. How was she ever going to be able to replace her necklace?

It took a few minutes to gather herself together, but Rusti managed to summon courage to keep going. She tugged the sweater over her head. It fell about her hips. A remarkable fit. A fashionable windbreaker jacket lay nearby. She grabbed it and abandoned the tent.

Humans and aliens came and left bearing supplies, equipment and data tablets. Rusti could not understand how these people, living on a distant planet from Earth, spoke her language. She thought that was just a reality of science fiction. Grim expressions wore heavy on their faces. Once or twice they looked in her direction, offering a sympathetic smile.

They knew, or at least the girl thought they did. They knew of the Autobot's plight and worked hard to help. Rusti tried to return a thank-you smile but her cheeks hurt and her lips trembled. Embarrassment and shame forced her eyes downward.

Rusti picked her way from the clearing to avoid getting in the way. She followed a caravan of equipment toward the Autobot camp and kept an extra eye out for Rodimus. Autobots greeted the procession of tools, replacement parts and fuel. The planetary natives were extremely polite, often apologizing for misunderstandings and offering assistance whenever and however it was needed. Autobots and EDC personnel routed from ship to ship exchanging notes, filing reports and communicating as efficiently as a bee colony. The Runka lost three plates along the starboard side and Quintesson laser cannons had sliced off a good portion of the back thrusters. The ship did not look as badly outside as it did inside.

Chromedome, Kup and Sideswipe labored hard, fusing damaged plating and replacing entire sections along the starboard where the ship was blown into. But Rusti doubted the Runka could really be saved.

Several yards off, Magnus, Jazz and Rodimus formed a small circle. A light grey pallor detracted color from Roddi's exostructure. Rusti also noticed his optics dimmed in fatigue. The three leaders debated about posting camp in the safest area far enough from the workers, but close enough for everyone to keep an eye on the children

Cloudstreaker crossed Rusti's view and the girl stared. Cloudstreaker's graceful form contrasted the three mechs with whom she stood. Her stature was a bit shorter than Roddi's with jet wings folded downward like a cape and a smooth helm headed by a visor stretching from audio to audio. She walked with solid strong legs; altogether her transform was that of a Concord with a few Cybertronian alterations.

Rusti thought she was pretty.

Rodimus leaned against Magnus while another city commander, Titanic from Sagittarius, approached with a grim report on the Racing Beast.

Jazz noticed Roddi's unstable behavior and reached for him when the Major-General caught Rodimus as the Autobot leader passed out.

The hair on the back of Rusti's neck stood straight and chills raced up her back. She bee-lined for Roddi, intending to be near him wherever the medics decided to place him.

No sooner had she descended the grassy knoll when the sky above lit bright yellow and deep red as though on fire. The first roll of distant thunder drummed across the sky. A second crack startled her, unnerving the girl to her bones.

The clouds billowed to voluminous proportions and raced at unbelievable speeds. They shifted colors from white to peach, gold and blood red. Everyone dropped whatever they were doing and scattered for cover. Rusti merely stood there, transfixed by the sight. She never saw such behavior. And she wondered why the world fell dead silent. No planes above. No birds. No conversation. Wind roared like the angry ocean, snapping her hair about her face.

Someone raced in her direction and Rusti tore her eyes off the hyperactive sky as the Wanakian ambassador ran at her. Koontah gripped her round the waist, threw her to the ground and covered her with his body. She drew breath to protest when screaming engines of an incoming ship whistled through the air. The pitch of their sound vibrated along her backbone and sternum.

The ground under her trembled and boomed Tons of dirt, rocks and twisted metal blew in hurricane-force winds, biting skin and slicing softer metals. Leaves stripped from tree branches and the long grasses danced and snapped madly. From the heavens a large fiery object dropped like a rock. It plunged to the ground, spewing shockwaves of flames and debris. Lightening flickered along the ground, sparking several trees and shot the Sonic Panther several times.

As abrupt as the storm hit, it ended, leaving everyone's nerves on edge and their ears and audio receptors buzzing.

Koontah let off Rusti just enough for her to see what happened. One of two Autobot ships crashed, spewing wreckage across the encampment. The ambassador cursed in his own language and held Rusti closer as the second ship crashed against the beach not more than half a mile away. Boiling water hissed, bubbled and smoldered under the overheated engines. Survivors poured from the vessels like panicked ants.

Magnus covered Rodimus with his own body, "Hit the dirt!" he boomed. Everyone flattened their bodies against the ground once more as the first shuttle blew, blanketing the island in a wave of plasma fire.

* * *

**LOCATION: Aquarius Tri-Stellar IV**

**Earth Date: November 20, 2038**

The day dragged under the bright, merciless sun.

Prime, Galvatron and Cyclonus remained silent and motionless, ticking the time away through private thoughts. Cyclonus sat still as an old weathered statue. His knees supported his arms, head slightly bent. His gaze remained fixed on a distant tower, counting the hours by the toll of a lonely bell.

Galvatron was a great deal more restless. He shifted position and posture every three hours. His optics dimmed to preserve power then he'd snap to, optics darting about, catching sight of a bird, a plane or an alien insect.

Prime sat in the shadows as though he tried to meld with them. Galvatron checked twice to make sure their Autobot companion was even conscious. His color was off again and Galvatron swore he heard Prime oxidate once, maybe twice. Something was wrong. But Galvatron kept that to himself.

The day stretched, forcing the three to hold positions for a solid twenty hours. The sun settled and traffic lessened. Once street lights flickered to life, Galvatron stood and stretched like a slumbering giant waking for the first time in centuries. He and Cyclonus produced their cloaks as Prime slowly emerged.

Galvatron glanced left and right. "Prime, I did not realize you have no cloak. Even here, your transform mode will not protect you."

Optimus did not answer. His physique suffered from cold and his mood was no lighter. He forced his mind to control the sluggishness and stared at Galvatron. His wayward thoughts mocked him.

Galvatron turned to Cyclonus who did not need to be told what to do. He tugged the hood and cowl over his head, concealing his optics and silently slipped away.

Prime wearily leaned against the stairwell entryway. He glanced at the set of moons gracing the planetary sky. They shone with one-quarter their usual brightness: ideal conditions for concealment. But they gave Optimus nothing to hope for.

"KEEP GOING, BUCKET-HEAD!" a powerful voice bellowed below. Galvatron and Prime shot up, fearful for Cyclonus. Silently they crept to the ledge and stared down, watching a pitiful progression pass their way. A huge burly organic snapped an energo-whip this way, that, as though it were his tail. Three powerful Transformers, all of Grimlock's stature, trudged on weary, damaged legs. One robot limped with a dangling, leaking arm. Low on fluids and fuel, the poor thing staggered until it fell to its knees.

The brutal organic lost his mind and stomped the ground, cursing and swearing by three different religions. He ruthlessly kicked the injured robot and screamed more profanity at the top of his lungs. He ripped what was left of a Decepticon insignia from the robot's chest and kicked his victim in the face.

Galvatron barely controlled his indignation and dug his fingers into the cement. He hung his head when the brute blew the victim's face with a phaser.

"GET ALONG THERE, YON WALKING TRASH BINS! I OUGHTA COMPACT ALL A' YON INTA PEN HOLDERS AN' DRINKIN' CUPS! YON WORTHLESS! MOVE!" The brute kicked one robot, seriously denting his back right leg.

Prime and Galvatron watched as other people came and left. Not one person bothered to see if the robot was dead. They passed him by as though he were refuse on the ground. Another twenty minutes faded and Galvatron lost his patience. He scampered down the building, half climbing, half flying and touched the ground with next to no noise.

Prime watched, too weary to worry about his companion's safety. He was confident Galvatron would not do anything **too** stupid He watched as the former Decepticon leader lifted his cowl, risking exposure, to check the dead robot.

Prime wondered if Galvatron felt the same about the Decepticons as he himself with the death of each Autobot. He did not see how. Optimus doubted Decepticons shared empathy of any kind. But then, again, the Autobots were changing. Why not the Decepticons?

"What the leaking Pit is he doing?" Cyclonus' voice rang clear but quiet in the cold night. Prime might have been startled were he more alert.

He sat up as the former lieutenant squatted beside him. "The Decepticon down there was just murdered. I'm not sure what Galvatron is doing." A cold hand laid against Prime's right audio sensor and he startled. Cyclonus touched him and Prime guessed he failed to conceal his frailty. The Autobot turned away, embarrassed by his reaction.

Cyclonus closed his hand and from subspace produced a long flowing cloak. He gave it without words and peered over the ledge.

Galvatron was nowhere in sight.

Cyclonus stood and scanned up one way, down the other and as far ahead as his scanners allotted.

Prime enveloped his frame with the cloak, grateful for its dark underside.

Galvatron's voice sounded from behind and the Autobot leader forced himself to regain poise. Under no condition did he want to appear weak.

"He was a powerful Decepticon and they treated him like a savage!" the former Decepticon leader snorted, indignant over the affair.

Prime lifted the cowl and out the side of his optics he watched Galvatron sit and simmer with anger. Optimus was tempted to point out how Decepticons were often guilty of the very same crime. But that would only incite arguments and bad feelings. They needed each other right now. He directed his thoughts to the immediate problem. "Cyclonus, are the streets very busy?"

"Only by the usual night scruff, Prime. It would seem we should easily get around unnoticed as long as we remain inconspicuous."

Prime stood and lost his balance for a moment. Galvatron jumped to help, but the Autobot leader waved him off. "Just a little sand, Galvatron. I'm fine. Prime turned away and privately cringed while the theta retraction instuds reworked the hydraulics in his right foot. He gathered the cloak and made his way back to the alley.

The three traveled westward, keeping footfalls silent, their communication reduced to touch-and-point. Galvatron's idea of using tightly-woven cloaks proved brilliant after the three of them successfully passed a band of self-proclaimed robo-hunters. Prime internally checked his weapon's setting. But his precaution was unnecessary. The long, heavy cloak concealed him from audio array to foretoe balancer. The robo-hunters did not suspect a thing.

Cyclonus had good taste in style, choosing not just length and durability, but material. Prime, however, thought it best not to ask where it came from.

The sidewalk ended at a railway station under which stretched a large drainage tunnel, trickling with cold water.

They waited while a long sleek train passed, tugging several dozen cars behind it. Galvatron lead the way and they silently descended from view of the road. Sickeningly filthy water splashed about their cloaks and feet. The underground tunnel reeked of metallic decay and ages-old lubricants and oils. More than once they encountered an orange-red six-legged lizard that hissed at Cyclonus. One even followed the Decepticon lieutenant several yards before disappearing into the tunnel rock.

A quarter of a mile further, Galvatron staggered into a mass of metal plates, wires and familiar shapes. He paused to scan the water and the tunnel half a mile further in.

"What is it?" Prime stepped to Galvatron's right. His foot contacted metal objects, silicon plates and crunched deteriorated matter. Galvatron met his optics with a measure of dread. The Decepticon dipped his hand into the wet darkness and brought up a rusted robotic body part. Cyclonus and Prime flinched.

"A burial site?" Prime wasn't that dumb, but hoped it was not-

"A dumping ground." Galvatron corrected.

The three of them fell silent, unsure whether to press forward or head back. But behind them the day pushed aside the sanctuary of night and eliminated the option of retracing their steps.

Pressing forward was a grim decision, but they had little or no choice. Prime undid his cloak, tucked it into subspace and transformed, switching his headlights and scanners to different frequencies. He rolled past Galvatron, keeping the speed slow while his weight compressed hundreds of years of robot carcasses rotting away in their watery mausoleum. The Decepticons walked beside him, sometimes behind when body parts were piled too high.

Prime wondered what they should do once they find other end-if there was another exit. He hoped the tunnel did not lead to a sewer or other unsavory place.

"Prime, wait."

Optimus stopped and scanned his companion's movements. Galvatron faced the left wall. His head dipped up and down as Prime shifted to robot mode. The Decepticon cast a light along the wall's surface, illuminating ancient writing scrawled in an ink recipe of blood, mud and lithium alloy.

"Looks like ancient Coregan," Prime said.

"Yes. See?" Galvatron pointed to a two-sided letter crossed and dotted twice. "This indicates a business transaction."

Cyclonus shook his head. "I do not know Coregan."

Galvatron scrutinized each faded and smeared letter. "It was an ancient planet conquered by the Decepticon Empire during the reign of Corruptus. The names list is long."

Prime touched another portion of graffiti. "In the Year of Betrayal, 180436, P.N. (1), the Five-Faced Freaks beguiled and betrayed the Empire. May they eat rust and die a slow, painful, honorless death." Prime turned to his companions. "These Decepticons were sold as slaves to this planet by the Quintessons."

Galvatron scanned the dirty fluid they stood in. Millions of cycles had come and gone and who knew how deep the well of body parts ran. The Decepticon's optics spotted a sorely decayed hand there, part of a wing there; the fracture of a face underneath. They suffered a horrible death; not in war, not defending their homeland, not in fighting for a cause they believed in. These robots, powerful, perfectly adaptable in any environment, were brutally abused. Their existence was mocked by others of greater power. Then they were just thrown away.

Galvatron laid a hand on his chest. Where was Primus in all this? Sleeping? Dreaming? Or merely siding with the Autobots?

Old memories rose and with them ugly feelings. Prime stumbled back to the middle of the tunnel. He looked old right then, as worn and war-weary as Galvatron felt. The Decepticon pressed past the old feelings. They were no longer an issue. Nothing was an issue now, except the death of Vector Sigma, the rise of Quintessons empowerment and the apparent demise of his people and species. Galvatron saw all that in the Autobot before him.

Was the pile of bodies here a poster-picture their future?

Prime's quiet voice barely echoed in the tunnel. At first Galvatron paid no attention to the words then registered "black box' and 'transport window' Galvatron waited before asking Prime to repeat himself.

"I remember two Quintessons used a similar device when they took me aboard the Ellipsis several months ago. But I was too close to unconsciousness to notice how they used it."

Prime spoke of the 'little black box'. Galvatron's composure lit into a devilish smile. "Well! Were I not concerned over Cyclonus' safety, I'd be delighted to press the white or black button."

Prime smiled at Cyclonus. "I'm glad you feel that way, Galvatron. After all, I've grown fond of Cyclonus."

Galvatron's face turned downward. "He's NOT available for adoption, Prime. I saw him first." The mighty former Decepticon leader sloshed through the debris, leading onward. Cyclonus shook his head and silently followed but paused long enough to give Prime a rare smile.

The tunnel stretched for another two miles before it hung right and bright afternoon sun shocked their sensors into shifting.

They waited until the very coldest and oldest part of night before venturing along the street. A small trio of natives swung out of a local restaurant, laughing hard, stumbling and squealing incoherently. A cool fog rolled along the ground, sneaking from building to building or post lamp to road sign.

They kept off the main routes, avoiding optical contact and possible run-in with the locals. They passed many old squat buildings with dirty windows and small parking lots. Sun-bleached dusty roads met their feet and a chilling wind played with their garments. Galvatron kept a sharp optic for road signs or opportunities to get them off the planet. Cyclonus kept his scanners on alert for possible dangers and scrutinized any sounds beyond those their feet made.

Weariness burdened Optimus, but he said nothing to his companions. He wished they would find a place to rest for at least ten minutes. He forced himself to think of Rusti and how she would be worried for him. That helped a little and he kept moving, quickening his pace to keep up with Galvatron's powerful strides.

"There!" Cyclonus pointed right just as a jet circled and landed. He watched as Galvatron studied the sky about them.

"How far do you think that is?"

"Looks like ten miles, maybe less," Optimus answered in turn. "But dawn is coming. We may have to lay low and wait before searching for a ship." He hung his head, feeling he could shut down standing right there. He heard Galvatron's footfalls crunch the ground as the Decepticon paced back and forth.

"Did we not pass a large abandoned facility not too long ago, Prime?"

"I believe so," Optimus answered slowly. But he was not entirely sure. They passed several large buildings, but whether they were abandoned or not, he did not bother to notice.

"Then that is where we will stay. I'll take first watch."

No argument there. Prime turned and followed his Decepticon companions about two and a quarter miles back. Dawn touched the land, lifting darkness from the corners of the world and with it came increasing traffic flow. They found the large emptied building complete with link fencing and signs declaring it was for sale. Optimus paid attention to nothing other than where Galvatron led him. They crawled through a previously broken window and searched for the darkest, innermost room.

They found a large room with no windows and a dry-rotted carpet along the flooring. "This will serve." Galvatron appraised. "I will take first watch."

"Wake me in two hours, then," Prime volunteered. "I'll take the next." He did not see the looks his companions exchanged between them. He laid on ancient decomposing carpet and shut down almost immediately.

Solitude in a vast windy desert.

The sky burns of nuclear flames.

Radiation scorches and blisters.

Cold mornings.

The desert expands.

Walk for an eternity.

never find the other side.

He sired the war.

He wrought death with bloodied hands.

He deserved this hell.

Wait! Hoped-for voice?

Galvatron? Galvatron?

His optics flashed on and the harsh sun, the oppressive heat and bitter-dry desert snuffed out. A quiet, cool room sheltered him from the hostile nightmare. The Autobots had not abandoned him. And Rusti was still somewhere safe. Prime sat up, confused. Daylight greeted him, filtered from a distant hallway. Scanners picked up Galvatron's resting presence not far from him. Prime took to his feet and staggered around the dusty parched carpet, wondering why they did not call him to take the next watch.

Cyclonus was nowhere nearby.

Maybe a bit of sunlight would chase the embers of his dreams away. But he did not get further than the threshold when pain like an invisible knife sliced his chest. Prime choked and collapsed.

Quiet! Quiet! Don't rouse Galvatron! Pain shuddered throughout his body and Prime thought it would burst out of him. He bent over in a tight ball, struggling with all his might to suppress his voice, gasping now and then again.

WARNING. SYSTEMS SHUTDOWN TO COMMENCE. STASIS LOCK ACTIVATING.

WARNING: STASIS LOCK FAILURE.

As sudden as the attack hit, it left him. Optimus let out a breath like a choking victim suddenly allowed air. He slowly let up, remaining on his knees because he did not have the strength to stand. Okay. Everything was okay. He would be alright. It was just a Virus attack, that's all. It's passed.

But the shaking would not stop. Feebly he crawled toward Galvatron and lay down, cautious as to keep some measure of distance from the Decepticon.

It'll pass.

Rest.

Prime woke later, finding much of the day gone. Cyclonus was still nowhere nearby and the Autobot leader wondered if something unfortunate hadn't happened. He rose and checked on Galvatron while tatters of the dream still haunted his consciousness. Prime peered into his companion's face, hoping everything was alright.

The Decepticon's optics snapped on and before Optimus could react, Galvatron shot up and pinned him fiercely to the floor. Prime offered no resistance.

Recognition came to the Decepticon's optics and Galvatron lessened his grip a bit. "Prime."

Optimus figured he too was startled from a bad dream.

The crunch of glass caused both of them to freeze. Their audios doubled in automatic intensity, straining for the quietest sounds. Optimus knew Cyclonus would never be so careless as to sneak up on either of them.

Galvatron quickly let up and the two of them silently darted for the doorway, each taking a side and readied to attack. Prime dimmed his optics. His body trembled with aftershock. Stay perfectly still. Don't . . . . move.

Galvatron's incredible reflexes saved the moment. He flashed out then back in the room, dragging a figure into the shadows. The captive in question screamed through Galvatron's hands, squirming. He slammed the invader through the floorboards and drew his gun from subspace.

Optimus barely made out the figure's shape and the very next moment, determined who it was; "Swindle." he grunted.

"Heya, guys! Heh, long time no see!"

"I caught him sneaking around the building, Galvatron." Cyclonus' cold haunting voice eked in from the hallway. He entered the room with no more noise than the floating dust motes. His figure eerily silhouetted against the outside light.

Galvatron stood straighter, fists on hip plates. His flaring red optics bore down on the spying Combaticon. With the cloak draped across his shoulder line, Galvatron resembled an angry god. "You've been spying on us! How long have you been out there?!"

"Hey, it's not my fault!" Swindle protested. "I was out there mindin' my own business, you see-"

"Where did you come from?" Optimus suddenly asked.

"What?" Swindle gave Prime a second glance and sounded as if it were a stupid question.

"How is it that you're here when there are no other Decepticons nearby?"

Galvatron narrowed his fiery optics: "More to the point, Swindle, what planet is this and where is the spaceport?"

"Are there other Decepticons in this quadrant?" Optimus pressed after.

Swindle laughed nervously, "Hey fellas, cold."

Both leaders stared as if Swindle said something less than appropriate. Then it dawned on Optimus what he was trying to say: "Chill," the Autobot leader firmly corrected. "The term is 'chill', now answer the questions."

Swindle sat up and crossed his arms defensively, "Well, what do I get for all this, hmm? After all, you two brutes have the firepower, the size AND the numbers against just little ol' me. I don't have a chance in the Pitt and I think it's really unfair. So you two really ought to consider your recourse and try a few-eek!!"

Galvatron swept the creep up and slammed him against the nearest wall removing his gyro-gun with a single graceful move. "Maybe we'll let you live." A dangerous smile swept over Galvatron's face.

"There **is** a problem with that, Galvatron." Prime pointed quietly.

"Eh?"

Optimus freed Swindle's gyro-gun from Galvatron's crowded grip. "If we let him live, he will most likely squeal. If there were ever a snitch . . ."

"Ah, true. A serious complication."

Swindle trembled, "No! Not a complication at all! I have the solution to your dilemma! I can swear my most solemn oath not to blab! Thief's and con artist's word."

"That doesn't go very far," Cyclonus grunted.

"What about other Decepticons?" Prime pressed again.

"What about them?" Swindle shook his head in Galvatron's choking grip. He squeaked and grunted when the former Decepticon leader dropped him to the floor. Prime and Galvatron hovered like a pair of cops over a sleazy suspect. Optimus scratched his back with Swindle's useless cannon while Galvatron looked cool, but ready to pounce at first opportunity.

"Where are they?" Optimus asked patiently. "Where are the other Decepticons?"

"Oh, they're around, I'm sure."

Optimus lost his patience. "WHERE?!" he rumbled.

"Oh, heh, uh, somewhere like . . . I'd guess in the Baydrin Sector. I kinda went my separate way. Know what I mean? Of course, after I sold bits of Onslaught's components, and Ratbat's CPU to that broad on Aladas Two, they weren't too happy with me. So I either left with my skin intact or didn't make anymore deals. It's like breathin', you know? I happen to enjoy my work."

Galvatron grunted, unimpressed.

"Galvatron," Prime shifted his gaze from the punk to his companion, "perhaps it's not wise to believe anything he says. He is, after all, a con artist, a larcenist and a back-stabber. I suggest we do away with him and continue on our own journey."

"Agreed." Galvatron growled. "However, Prime, maybe **he** has a ship we could . . . accommodate." And with that, the Decepticon offered Prime a nefarious Cheshire grin.

Prime nodded in silent agreement.

"Wh-whaddya guys gonna do to me?"

"We'll think of something." Prime replied casually.

Swindle held his hands up as if to ward off evil spirits, "Hey, guys, look, I'm practically useless to ya. I'm not the guy with the ship."

"THE ship, Swindle?" Galvatron picked that up faster than a shoplifter in a candy store.

"There **is** a ship, then?" Prime asked, hoping for a leeway in their misadventures.

"Oh, did I say **the**?" Swindle was not covering his tracks very well. "**A**, I meant 'a' ship. Yeah, that's right."

Optimus narrowed his optics, annoyed as if Rodimus has just hidden all the pointers off his desktop again. "You have a loose tongue, Swindle," he growled.

"Heh, well . . . I don't have a tongue at all," Swindle corrected.

At that moment, Cyclonus groaned and crumpled to the ground, a vibro-sword protruded straight through his right shoulder. The shadow of another robot emerged, jumping from the ceiling in the corridor. He was as tall as Optimus and Galvatron, but a bit stockier with rounded shoulders and -good grief, Prime thought, teeth.

It flashed a smile at them, mouth of teeth and yellow eyes gleaming in the unlit room.

" . . . but my buddy does." Swindle added a bit smugly. The other robot pointed a nuclear decelerating atomizer at the two and Optimus wondered why he was not surprised.

1. Post Nova-or those many 'cycles' after Prime Nova.


	7. Rocks and Hard Places

Author's Note: Much thanks goes to Karen Castello for permission to give life to her character, Cloudstreaker . 

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 7**  
Rocks and Hard Places **

**LOCATION: LUNARPHYTE**

**EARTH DATE: ** **NOVEMBER 5, 2038**

The ship erupted into a firestorm that raged across the island. Its terrible heat scorched body shells and damaged delicate equipment. It ate leaves and licked up grasses. Near and far, Rusti heard screams of victims also claimed by the storm. Koontah lay protectively over her, whispering in his own language. A moment later, a freezing rain drenched the island, killing the grass fires. But water had no affect on plasma fire and the ships continued to melt.

Ultra Magnus half raised his form above Rodimus and searched the damaged encampment.

Smoldering ships hissed under the cold, heavy rain. Fog and smoke concealed ships, people and landscape. Magnus spotted Springer, Cloudstreaker and Monsterbot Doublecross (Crossy) just ten yards off. Further than that lay Titanium's form, obscured by clouded light.

Checking Prime first, Magnus concerned himself over the Autobot's pale-grey appearance, shallow breath and twitching fingers. Roddi murmured softly like a child lost in deep dreaming. He was alright, but needed attention.

Magnus stood. Dark patches blotched every inch of his form. The firestorm crisped a good deal of subdermal circuitry. The freezing rain kindly cooled his smoldering body and partially blinded his sensors. He could barely see colorful plasma fire dancing on the Sagittarian Mozart, the Gabriel Genesis, the Armored Crest and the Saber's Claw. "Cloudstreaker," he called through the noise of rain, "take Rodimus out of here."

Cloudstreaker extracted herself from a mud puddle. Streaking rain cooled the fire injuries along her backside and legs. She spotted the damaged ships; 'Mozart was critically burned. The Runka was ready to blow again. Cloudstreaker stood and assessed the moment. With a good measure of concentration, Fort Horizon's second-in-command projected her unique subspace connectors and carefully manipulated the conduits through the Runka's crippled fuel lines. Through her subspace pockets and utilizing the electromagnetic energies between each ship's anti-plasma drives, Cloudstreaker transferred power and fuel from the critically damaged ships to the Cold Refractor-the least disabled ship.

The fires on the Runka died and HotSpot, Blades, Titanium and Convoy rushed to extinguish the other fires. Thunder muttered across the sky, pushing a breeze across the camp. The air cleared of smoke and the rain slowed to a softer mist.

Cloudstreaker disengaged her subspace lines from the ships and dropped to the ground. Wearily she turned her attention to Magnus and crawled to him, apology written over her visor and slightly pouting lip components. She said nothing, bracing for a good admonishing for not following orders.

But Magnus merely smiled and laid a dirty hand on her shoulder, "good job, Cloudstreaker," he praised. "Take care of Rodimus, get him undercover."

"Aye, Sir." she thankfully replied.

The Autobots came to life, emerging from the crevices and dens of whatever surface protected them from the explosion. Autobots and Human refugees stared in shock. The whole island smoldered with the death of greenery. Bit by bit the wounded searched for wounded as the mist kept the ground moist and the air clear of collecting smoke.

Magnus stumbled about, counting injured and taking mental notes. Conversation came in whispers, if at all, as survivors picked up the pieces.

Magnus approached City Commander Gryph, as she, Convoy and Jazz crawled out from under the Vertical Horizon.

Up from the wreckage of the Runka, Grimlock rose and crabbed, "Me, Grimlock sick and tired of getting blown to Pitt!"

Sludge crawled out from the same messy pile and shook his head of debris then flicked his tail, splattering the Runka's port with mud and ash. Grimlock set his Dino-mode arms in a fold and shook his head. "Uhhn. You, Sludge, look bad."

"Me, Sludge need bubble bath and rubber ducky."

Magnus saw opportunity here. He turned to the Dinobots with just the hint of a smile. "Grimlock, round up the others. See if anyone needs help."

"Me, Grimlock not forklift."

"No," Magnus agreed, "But you're strong-and a hero."

That motivated the Dinobot commander. He signaled for Sludge to follow and the two toured the camp.

Gryph wiped her forehead with her arm, not noticing the gash along the underside. "Nice diplomacy skills, Magnus. What's your secret?"

"Football," the City Commander answered matter of fact. "I need reports within the hour, people. Get communications up and going as soon as possible. Jazz . . . salvage what we can from the other ships to repair these."

"If salvagin's even possible," Jazz countered.

The two Autobots turned as Ambassador Koontah and an aid, a Human female not much taller than he, zigzagged their way over debris, wreckage and a fallen tree. They approached the group of city commanders and Koontah turned directly to Magnus. " Back to the front page', as they say, Commander Magnus. What can I offer to help?"

Magnus sighed, exhausted and low on energy. "We need to make assessments first, Ambassador. Offhand I would say medical attention is in order. The Autobots can't repair the ships in their present condition."

Koontah nodded wordlessly and quietly excused himself. His aid followed with a final glance over her shoulder.

The remainder of the day moved in grey moods. None of the Autobots were terminally damaged, but five lay on the critical list. EDC, however, counted thirteen dead among Humans and aliens, two of which were children.

Because of the strict Physician laws regarding burial of the dead, the Autobots had to cremate the deceased. Rusti watched from a distance with an aching heart. It hurt to see more people lose their lives.

Another girl about her own age climbed the burnt slope and joined Rusti on the fallen tree. For a long time neither girl said a thing, staring at the pyre and those who mourned.

"I'm so tired of this," the girl said softly

"Me, too." Rusti agreed.

"I-I've seen how close you are to the Autobots . . . can you tell me what's going to happen now?"

The question caught Rusti off guard and she had to give the girl a double glance. "What?"

The girl's cheeks flushed and her lips turned red. "I'm sorry," she choked up. "I was hoping someone knew-you know-when we can go home. That's all."

Rusti sadly shook her head and they fell silent again. Her eyes wandered far past the Vertical Horizon, past the Saber's Claw toward Fort Draco's ships, the Covenant and the Sonic Panther. The Dinobots slowly dismantled the Panther and dragged its components and spare parts to other ships while two other Autobots distributed supplies and rations.

The girl beside Rusti shuddered and sniffed. "I was going to go on a date . . . you know. I don't even think he's alive now." She again looked to Rusti. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Rusti swallowed hard but found she could not cry. "The Quintessons murdered him several months ago. I don't even know where Optimus is now."

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" But Rusti still could not cry. "My name is Lucille, by the way. What be yours?"

"Rusti."

"A pleasure to meet you, Rusti."

Rusti forced a smile. Her heart hurt too much to be cheerful over meeting a girl her age. She wondered if her new-found acquaintance would live to see her twenty-first birthday.

"LUCILLE!"

"Coming, Ma!" Lucille looked to Rusti with apology. "I have to go. I'll see you later."

Rusti waved good-bye and watched Lucille rejoin her mother with a tight hug and a big smile.

Rusti now felt very much alone. They all left in such a hurry. Everything happened so fast. All she had now was Roddi and he was not well.

At least she could be with him.

Rusti rejoined the camp where women set up places for children to sleep. EDC officers and every man or older boy available helped to begin repairs. Rusti slipped among them unnoticed until she found Roddi, asleep in the Vertical Horizon.

The day turned into a longer night.

The Autobots worked far into the night cleaning refuse and repairing the worst damage with what supplies they had on hand. But toward sunrise, Magnus started ordering many workers to shut down for a while. He knew they were pressed for time, but weary soldiers made for poor warriors.

A great bonfire was built to clean tools, re-forge metal and burn refuse and trash. Magnus sat before it, carefully cleaning silicon casings for the Frostbite, Vertical Horizon and Interrogator's star drive plasma rings. It was delicate work but since Perceptor's expertise was directed elsewhere, Magnus took the job himself.

Wavelength, Fort Horizon's communications officer, drove up from the southern end of the island. "Sir!" he saluted, "Sir, we just had un audio-full from the Umbassador, sir!"

Magnus lowered his hands so as to keep the cloth and the component separate. He switched visual lenses and gave Wavelength his full attention.

"Sir, they says nother three vessels screamed in fr'm our solar system. The communder in charge claims t' be Strike Back fr'm Zenith."

It was better news than Magnus could have hoped for and although his body ached, his core did a leap-frog.

"Whazzat?!!" Jazz proclaimed from behind Magnus, "Mars? What'd they say? Is ever'body alright?"

"Negatory, didn't get that long in th' the converse. But they sez they's comin' in. Needs ta land."

Magnus sighed. The news was good and might make his week. But they still had several problems: none of the ships here could fly, he had no clear idea as to what Rodimus wanted to do and too many of their warriors were in less-than-satisfactory condition. "Keep us posted, Wavelength. And find out if you can help Blaster. He's been working overtime on the comm centers on each of the ships."

Wavelength gave a thumbs-up, shifted back to hover cycle mode and zipped away.

Jazz squatted beside Magnus' right. A flagon of energon glowed between the smaller Autobot's hands. "Here ya go, Mags. Looks like you could use a bit of pick-me-up."

Magnus eyed it warily as if Jazz were handing him a cup of poison. "How are our reserves, Jazz?"

"Heh, gotta fuss, don'tcha?" his face lifted in a warm smile. "The ambassador yakked at me not more n a couple hours ago. I gave him a 4-1-1 on what we needed in energon reserves . . . he's gonna fix it. Now take yer share. No arguin' wi' me or I'll tell Prime when he either gets back t' us, or he wakes up."

Magnus' gaze tore from the cup of energon to Jazz and finally had to smile. "Either Prime or Prime, eh, Jazz?" He dropped the cloth and carefully set the component in a metal box. Magnus took the cup with gratitude and hoped things would start to look up.

"Well, do'an you stay up too long yerself, Magnus. We need you sharp as a whistle. I'm gonna check on the Rod-man and see you in the mornin'." And with that, he departed with somewhat less of a swing in his steps. Magnus watched him and realized Jazz was honestly less perky than he let on.

Good ol' Jazz.

* * *

Little pink, yellow and violet flowers fell like rain from a dark sky. Roddi did not know where they came from but they made him sad. "Let's stop the war," he moaned softly. "Forget the ideals of freedom and let's just make peace with the universe. You never see flowers fighting one another over a bit of energy or space to live. They just live." 

He sat atop Trinity's monitor, watching as she put away a basket of clean laundry.

"You can have either peace or freedom," Trinity answered matter of fact. "But in this universe, you cannot have both. People want peace. Then they want to be safe from those who would take things from them. But they have to give up their freedom to be safe. Do you want to have peace, or do you want freedom?"

"It is an unfair thing to ask." Roddi stared at Snuggles, Trinity's fat flat-faced cat. "Freedom takes lives, destroys property so that in war, nothing is left for anyone. If there is peace, things can be spared for all."

"Nobody gets everything, Roddi. Even in peacetime, people starve or die of disease or accidents or other things far worse than a laser pistol."

Flowers fell from the sky again and Rodimus stared at them as they wilted upon the ground, melting into water. "It is the fate of the universe to fall to the hands of violence. And if war is such a terrible thing, why are many of the best stories about war?"

Trinity opened her school book as she sat upon her bed. "Because, Rodimus, heroes are born in war, not in bed. And we love those stories because they're about survivors and those who valiantly give their lives so that someone else can continue to live. It's survival that makes us strong, not planting gardens or throwing parties. And people need heroes."

But her words only made Rodimus feel worse. I would like to be a hero, he thought. But all I've done is screw things up. Look at the blood on my hands. I have committed evil. I am not worthy of being a hero, let alone a leader. Not worthy.

* * *

The year must have been around 2010 or 2011 because Roddi vaguely recalled the roadside along which he sped. It was not the Inter-mountain Pass. Fewer pine trees occupied the hills while live oak rooted the landscape with their ugly avocado-color and scraggly branches. This bend turned to that one and ahead rose a thirty-degree hill. There might have been a bridge ahead, except that again Rodimus could not clearly remember and he had no idea where he was going. He knew, of course, all he had to do was call Metroplex. Kup would be MORE than happy to remind him. 

Just ahead zoomed a motorcycle, something of red and white with a black brand-name signature above the Utah license plate. Roddi caught up, driving on the wrong side of the highway. He zipped up then slowed down, taunting the driver.

The driver glanced between Rodimus and the road, confused-

. . . then Rodimus held the motorcycle in his hands. It was cute, like a toy. No driver, just the cycle.

A great truck crowned the top of the hill; lights glaring, front grill bespeckled with splattered insects. It descended the slope, gaining speed and power. Roddi knew the truck could not stop on a dime; this one, just by the sound of the gears, was illegally overloaded.

That inspired him. Rodimus set the motorcycle on the road and it drove straight, moving heedlessly into the path of the truck. Just for kicks, Rodimus chased it, forcing the cycle ever closer to the truck. The motorcycle had no choice but to keep forward.

Keep going, little cycle! Keep moving! No where to go, no place to hide!

Eighty miles an hour. Straight ahead. Bending right. Leaning left. All the trees watched, knowing what Rodimus was doing was wrong.

Keep going little cycle!

Keep going for Roddi! That's right!

Fun!

And here comes the truck, burdened with hidden treasures and an ignorant driver.

The little cycle zoomed along, trying to stay away from Roddi. The truck grounded the road with huge tires, with great weight. There was Roddi, now honking his horn, laughing in anticipation.

Truck.

Cycle.

Roddi.

Truck.

Cycle.

Ro-

Rodimus zipped right as the truck conquered the motorcycle.

And there goes the cycle; flying through the air! Rodimus transformed and leaped over the moving truck. He laughed like a fool-hearty high school boy and chased the crushed cycle.

There it lay, far downhill among saddened trees and weeping grasses. Poor little cycle. It's wheel was crushed and torn off.

As Rodimus picked up the cycle it changed into a baby, screaming, because its wheel and-

wait a minute! Babies don't have tires, do they? It kept screaming and Roddi tried to find the missing and damaged tire so the child would be silent.

But the Autobot was helpless and stupid. He was stupid because it was HIS fault the motorcycle was damaged.

Rodimus stumbled about, searching for the tire and he found himself calling for help because now the cycle was bleeding. HELP!! HELP!!

But none came.

A cramp crushed his thorax and Rodimus dropped the doll(?!). He bowed over in pain. A second sharp pain yanked at his innards and he fell to his knees. He killed that cycle. The doll was dead. The cycle ceased to function. He threw it at the truck.

No, the truck ran over it.

No, the truck came after it.

No, the cycle was on the road.

No, the baby was on the road.

No, the car was crashed into, the people in the vehicle were dead, covered in little red lacerations glowing brightly. A baby was there, screaming.

Roddi's innards hurt more. Oh, Primus! What was that about? He was drowning, now, bleeding from the inside. What was that about?

MURDERER?

MURDERER?!

FILTHY, ARROGANT, GROSSLY MALFUNCTIONING PIECE OF SCAP!! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO CONTINUE TO LIVE?!!

On the outside, Rodimus' electro-pulse fluctuated.

MURDERER!!

And the faceless head of the Virus came to him as judge and executioner. Stand still, accept your fate. Become one with the Nothingness from which you came. After all, you are a joke, Rodimus-whomever-you-think-you-are.

Amateur!

Wanna-be!

A second-rate Prime!

Roddi bowed his head and waited for the Virus to end his life. It snapped its teeth in anticipation.

What was that?

Some other voice, distant but clear called his attention. He probably should not listen to it, after all, he was supposed to die now. He should have died several times, but this time is certain.

A powerful hand smashed through the ugly dream and snatched him from the jaws of the Virus and the vile thing screamed in frustration.

Exhausted but safe, he lay listless in someone's arms. He gasped for breath, bleeding from evil memories. So dark, so sad.

Warm hands kindly took his own . . . the same hands so capable of such destruction. Optimus Prime dragged Rodimus close to his softly vibrating lasercore. There Roddi rested, comforted by the one he trusted most. But Rodimus' comfort could not stop him from self castigation.

Rodimus grieved. "I was evil," he confessed. "I committed horrors. I am no Chosen. I am flawed. A failure and a fraud."

Optimus Prime whispered something but Rodimus could not understand. The dark world closed around him and Rodimus wished it would swallow him whole. But a bit of grey light lifted some of that blackness, easing the emptiness in Roddi's heart.

"Child of the Matrix. Why do you mourn over the past?" It was Ambassador Koontah's voice that came soft and soothing to his embrittled soul. Roddi's consciousness slowly returned to the real world. But the Autobot leader drowned in regret.

"They should have assassinated me. Optimus Prime should have allowed me to die at Fort Max. Those people trusted me . . . and Primus, I murdered."

"Rodimus . . ." Koontah's soft words drifted from the outside into Roddi's soul. "Long before you were created, it was known what you would do, what would happen. All you need to do it accept forgiveness and move on. You are alive and here for a reason. Your people need you, your strength. You must press forward. Leave the past. You are Prime and nothing can change that. Do not be afraid to retake your place."

Was that a second (third?) chance?

How or why would anyone forgive him?

Because there was still a purpose for his life.

The Autobots still needed him.

Optimus still needed him.

And it dawned on Rodimus that he was freely forgiven. No works or strings attached.

The darkness in his soul lifted. He still ached for the victims, but understood someone else already paid the price for his transgressions. He was free to keep living and to care for his people. Rodimus reached for salvation and took the strength necessary to keep forward.

Leave the motorcycle.

Bury the baby.

Don't worry about the doll.

Go back to the Autobots.

Listen. It's Rusti, talking to Jazz.

Yes. Come back to the moment.

Don't fuss. Just come back.

Come back.

* * *

Roddi moaned when someone touched him and gently lifted him from the ground. He hurt, probably more than the Major-General; Rodimus could not move. They carried him out of the cold light into the warm darkness of Vertical Horizon's bridge where they laid him on a flat. It hurt to lie there but he could say nothing in his own defense. 

* * *

Rusti stirred in her sleep, fully aware of her surroundings. Autobots removed all the chairs and extra equipment from the Vertical Horizon's bridge some hours ago. Injured and weary survivors lay on flats and bed rolls. Rusti could have slept in more comfortable surroundings such as the camp set-up in the Razor Lady where most of the children were kept. But she felt safer next to Rodimus. He lay very still, soundly sleeping. The damage he took at Fort Max drained Rodimus of strength and slowed his healing.

Rusti sighed, a little more awake. Her heavy heart and confused state of mind reeled. Fortunately no one expected anything of her except to stay warm and out of trouble. Rusti wished for the hundredth time she could help with repair work, but the girl couldn't tell the difference between a case of sprockets and a box of Legos.

Her thoughts drifted to the outside world. Must be morning by the sound of voices from Humans, aliens and Autobots. She imagined it mostly sunny, probably warm. Everyone worked long hours repairing and replacing. But time stood against them. Sooner or later the Quintessons would attack again, chasing them from one end of the galaxy to the other.

What about Cybertron? Why didn't Rodimus aim for Cybertron?

The ramp door opened and bright outside light flooded the bridge.

Jazz's silhouette caught her attention and the girl eyed him with a bit of warning. He had better not wake Roddi.

"How's the Boss Man doin'?" Jazz whispered to her.

Roddi muttered his answer: "dead asleep."

Rusti shot Jazz a bitter look.

"Very sorry, Roddi," Jazz raised his voice just a little bit. "Jus' hata see how you was doin'."

"In a word: crappy." Rodimus sighed and his optics faded on. "How is it, Jazz? What's going on?"

Jazz knelt beside the flat. Burdens of not-so-great news shadowed his face. "Well . . ." Jazz hesitated before spilling the bad news: "We lost twenty-nine people in the plasma-fire crash."

"Hmm hmm."

"But we got several good ships, still. Ol' Springer chirped dis one might be reparable, too if we can git the right stuff for it."

"Hmmhmm."

Magnus and that ambassador fella was talkin' bout lookin' around fer another ship we might be able t' buy. We got more Autobots than we got room for them. But there is some good news, Roddi. Wavelength jus' told me an' Mags tha' three ships from Mars found our little trail and jes' arrived from 09-A."

Rusti's face brightened with hope. Her heart pattered fast.

But Jazz sighed before ending his report: "But Optimus ain't with em."

Her shoulders sank with her expectations. If Optimus really was on one of those ships, he would have been with them already. She laid her hand on her chest, her eyes dropped. Where was he? What happened to him? She was dying to ask, but found her voice locked in oncoming tears.

Rodimus was also quiet for a long moment and when he spoke, Rusti heard the disappointment. "Sounds like you and Magnus have everything handled, Jazz." Rodimus sighed and his optics dimmed again. ". . . something else, Jazz, . . . keeps slipping my mind; something I wanted you to ask the ambassador. But I can't remember." his voice grew weaker with weariness and Rusti's face saddened. ". . . oh, Primus what was it?"

Rodimus fell silent for several moments and Jazz was about to leave quietly when the Autobot leader stirred again. "Oh, I remember. Jazz, ask . . . Ambassador Koontah if he has the coordinates for a planet called Cratis, . . . would you?"

"Cratis?"

"That's right. Cratis."

"Sure thing, Rod. Don'cha worry, now. Mags an' me are on

the job." Jazz held a thumbs-up, but Roddi did not see it. The city commander's grin died and he turned just as Rodimus got in the last word:

"Now I AM worried."

Jazz's smile picked up and he quietly departed.

Rusti stared at the door for a long time. It looked like a really nice day out but she did not want to leave Roddi alone here. "Optimus," she whispered.

"Hmm?" Roddi's weak voice broke the quiet.

"I'm worried about Optimus. Do you think he's okay? Do you think he might still be on Mars, Roddi?"

"Can't tell . . . Lady Friend. But if I know Prime, he'll be resourceful enough to take care of himself. If anything, Rusti, he'll do everything in his power . . . to get back to you." Roddi's voice failed as he returned to shut down.

Rusti said nothing more. There were no words to convey her worry for Optimus Prime-or the fact that she was homesick.

And there was no telling how long they were going to be away from Earth. Rusti snuggled back under the blankets and with a final sigh, returned to sleep.

* * *

Blaster struggled through unfocused optics to reconnect the Sagittarian Mozart's communications board. Most all the ships had lost entire circuit boards due to Quintesson Ecliptic Fragmenter bombs. A wire snapped and zapped his fingers. Blaster yipped with shock and pain as his fingers smoldered. He shook his hand. "Uh, I dunno, Mags. Most of these boards are extra-crispy and the wiring has gone to Radio Shack Heaven."

Weary and frustrated, Magnus sighed. "How long will it take to replace the boards?"

Blaster slid out from under the central comm control panel. Like most of them now, his battered chassis was marked with scrapes and patches like bad graffiti. The communications officer shook his head. "It means we get to **build** new boards, Mags. And bets are on that the Physicians here don't got the stash we need. Gotta remember the ships were ripped with specific interfaces b'tween liquid crystalline and nanite routers. Without liquid crystalline, we can't use the concentric logic chips that lets us t' tango in other lingos."

"Substitution?"

Blaster shrugged, showing his fatigue with a clear sense of helplessness. "I dunno." And he looked away.

Magnus sympathized and patted his shoulder. "Get some rest, Blaster. Maybe something will come to you."

"I got three other ships-"

"That's not a request," the Major-General's voice turned stern. Blaster meekly nodded and departed from the Mozart's bridge.

Magnus traversed the deck like an old caged tiger still longing for freedom. He leaned against the back of the navigation seat, staring blankly out the viewer. He knew they could not linger; the people in this system could hide them from the Quints forever. And knowing the Quintessons as he did, Ultra Magnus could almost count the hours before the Autobots were tracked down and attacked.

* * *

After surveying the last three ships' communication systems, Wavelength's diagnosis was not much happier. Magnus was ready to give some of his own communications circuitry to get things to turn for the better. Gryph joined him a while later with the completed damages list. 

"It's not happy," she reported, handing him the digipads.

He grunted.

"The Confiscator is the only ship from Fort Max that made it. But its landing gear is damaged and two engines are down. I will say, however, we have found a good deal of emergency supplies on board-in places we didn't expect to find them."

"You can thank Roddi for that one," Magnus muttered. He read the death list-a job Optimus would normally have taken.

She nodded. "We did find, however, Sir, that the Vertical Horizon is salvageable. We're taking parts from the Plunging Blade to make as many repairs as possible. The Blade's entire navigation system was fried by the bombs; she won't fly again."

Magnus concealed whatever emotion he might have had. The Dead List said they lost thirty-one people in the two crashes. His next job would be to equally divide supplies and crew among the remaining ships and get the rest of the ships down from orbit. Then something occurred to him: "Gryph, you said the navigation was fried on the Blade."

"Yes, sir."

"What about communications?"

"Sir?"

"Find out if the communications panels were damaged and if there are other boards to spare."

"Yes, sir." She took back her pads and ran off. Magnus watched her with a bit of hope. Maybe the day will turn out right after all.

* * *

Wavelength closely scrutinized the three boards as Gryph handed them to him one at a time. He checked their general condition before handing them to Perceptor. "They look great," he cheerfully announced. 

Magnus wanted to leap for joy, but he waited for Perceptor's comments and his optics switched from the communications officer to the scientist.

"Affirmative," Perceptor finally agreed. "These boards are in adequate condition. There is link damage on this one, however. But it is easily repaired."

Magnus' fists flexed and relaxed, "can you duplicate the boards?"

Perceptor transformed from his microscopic form and looked a bit thoughtful. "It might necessitate some re-engineering, Ultra Magnus. The products we require do not originate from this present solar system. However, there is a favorable potentiality the Ambassador is acquainted with someone who employs similar equipment."

Magnus had to chew on the words for a moment but finally figured out what the scientist was saying. "Alright, Perceptor. Keep me informed. I'll talk to our host and see what I can do." So close, Magnus thought, they were close to getting somewhere-at least in the communications department!

Magnus found Ambassador Koontah sitting at the edge of the Iron Pike's wing. The ambassador cradled a cup of warm tea between his hands. He sipped it thoughtfully as a gentle breeze played with his fuzzy reddish-brown fur and danced with the ties of his blindfold.

Magnus took three quiet steps toward Koontah and the Wancheeah's ears perked straight. Magnus grinned. "I am usually quieter than that, Ambassador."

"It would make little or no difference, Commander Magnus," Koontah answered evenly. "I hear with my ears, I listen with my soul. It is your **life force** that I listen for, Ultra Magnus. Strange, however, that all the Autobots exist on one life force frequency . . . and you on another."

Magnus inwardly squirmed. The ambassador stared through him and the Major-General worried. "Er-"

Koontah swiftly changed the subject: "I took liberty to note you have more people than ships. Bit of a dilemma, Commander."

Magnus frowned, "Unfortunately, we don't have either time or resources to build another ship."

"Yes," the Wanakian ambassador agreed. "As I say: bit of a dilemma." He listened to the world around him as the sea vessel, Pyrite, docked near the Gabriel Genesis and crews unloaded supplies. The day was perfectly beautiful. The sea lay like a sheet of glass, the sun shone brightly and now and again Koontah heard a few of the Autobots exchange jokes with the Pyrite's crew

"Well," Koontah said after a moment, "Lunarphyte has a couple of full-service cities. We do offer a sizable space port and there might be a good chance you, or someone you send, could find another vessel or two for sale." He noticed Magnus' sudden silent manner and quickly added: "Of course, I would be willing to foot the expense. But as I am unfamiliar with your people, perhaps it is best you send someone with me who knows what you need."

"You have been far too kind to us already, Ambassador. We cannot possibly ask more than what you have already done."

"Oh no!" Koontah's voice lightened, inclined to laugh, "Don't think this is for free! I plan to put it on your boss's tab. Optimus Prime promised me a space station. I anticipate the favor to be repaid in full."

"Heh." Magnus grinned and felt better. "Well, then, um, who would you like me to send?"

* * *

Jazz ushered Rusti off the 'Horizon so they could talk without rousing Rodimus. Then he dropped the bomb. 

She stared at him, stunned. "What?! Why me? I don't know diddle!"

"Don'tcha worry none there, Little Lady, you'll be given a list a' stuff ta buy."

She shook her head, resolute, "Jazz, I know nothing about ships or engines, navigational controls-I don't even know what power source you guy use! I can't even make a paper airplane."

Jazz's whole manner turned serious, "Rusti." Now he had her attention. "This is serious. Mags wants ta send you wi' the ambassador cuz you don't wear one of them Headmaster exo-suits."

Her brows wrinkled and she turned her head so as to look him out the corner of her eye. " . . . okay. Why does that make a difference? I mean, none of the EDC staff wear exo-suits, either-"

"Yeah, but they's all technicians here, Hon. We need them t' keep working."

That pieced her answers together. Rusti was more or less free from other duties. She nodded. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

Jazz grinned, pleased.

* * *

Rusti was flown off the island curtsey of Air Raid. He promised not to go too fast (yeah, right) and no stunts-which he stuck to. Rusti figured they would approach another land lush with long grasses and trees the likes of which were on the island. But she nearly lost her jaw when the destination came over the horizon. 

A colossal double-deck city spanned across land and water. The topside-the tableland-held the largest space port this side of Cybertron The tableland hovered above a huge bay area, supported by several great metal pillars. Majestic buildings tall, and strong, spread under the tableland like a collection of Legos. Stretching the length of Northern California, San Francisco to the Oregon border, the city was the largest Rusti had ever seen.

"Is-is that the place? Is that LaPrane?"

"That's the coordinates, Kiddo." Air Raid tipped right and made a perfect landing. "Hey, you'll have to brave it out from this point, Rusti. I'm not permitted to transform here."

"Okay." Rusti felt lost and uncertain. What if there was no one here to greet her? She had a bracelet radio Perceptor gave her until her exo-suit could be repaired. But that was not much consolation. She left the Aerialbot and tugged her jacket closer about as Air Raid wheeled away and shot back into the sky.

Rusti shuddered to think she was alone on an alien planet.

"Ah, on time! Perfect!" The girl turned and faced Ambassador Koontah and an aid. The ambassador undid his long-tie blindfold and batted his triangular black eyes against the clouding glare of daylight. He offered her the crook of his arm and with a grateful smile, Rusti followed him to a comfortable transport.

"So what's on our grocery list, Miss Witwicky?" Koontah folded the blindfold once they entered a private car. Rusti produced the digipad handed to her by EDC Captain Molleson. She frowned, having no idea what most of the items were: "forty parcs of liquid crystalline. Six gold-burnished semi-conductor boards with anti-protonic . . .uh interfaces. Silver refurbishing solder with T-ionic acid, NO aluminum filling-what the heck IS some of this stuff?"

Koontah grinned broadly. "Supplies for a needy people, Miss-"

"Please, call me Rusti."

"Alright. You may call me Koontah, Miss-I mean, Rusti."

Their first stop was a local alien-owned ship-shop' where they were able to acquire other things on Rusti's list such as two tons of neutron-free selenium sheeting and 250 yards of titanium/copper wiring; blue shielding only.

They tried three specialty shops before finding one place that sold the liquid crystalline Blaster needed for the communication boards. It was terribly expensive, but Koontah paid the merchant without flinching and like other purchases, requested the materials be delivered.

They managed to find three other places that sold interstellar maps and anti-electron pulsating laser cannons. Koontah made extra certain their list was nearly done and laughed.

It caught the girl's attention. "What?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"The best part of our shopping spree! We get to look for ships!"

Rusti did not find that quite so amusing.

They visited several docks before finding ships that were somewhat compatible with Transformer sizes. Rusti read over the list and found instructions on what to expect in buying star cruisers. She thought it was funny at first, then realized whomever put the list together, knew she had no idea what it meant buying a space-worthy ship.

ù Navigation controls must be accurate within 100 yards.  
ù Rear thrusters-capacity of 200,000 tons.  
ù Take-off speed of approximately 2500 mph.  
ù 5,000 x 8,000 cargo hold  
ù Spacious storage compartments.  
ù 24-com channel communications center with concentric logic chips and compatible upgrade systems.  
ù Full-computerized interface with compatible upgrade systems.  
ù Zeta-silver charging boosters.

Rusti looked up from her list and found Koontah several yards away. She raced to catch up with him. "You've already read this, haven't you?"

Koontah smiled without meeting her eyes. "Ah, out that way. I think we have found a ship or two. Come !"

Rusti followed him half a mile down the roadway. The ships Koontah pointed out did not seem in all that great a shape. Battle scars nicked much of the finish and the chassis were neither clean nor smooth. She and Koontah approached a tall female wearing a ridiculously tight dress. The alien female held a clipboard to her nose and hurriedly scribbled over it.

"Yes, yes. Tell me what you need," she said snapped.

"This young lady is traveling with a group of Transformers and is interested in your vessels. May we have a look?"

The female, bald and bearing too much eye makeup, finally gave them visual attention. "Transformers, eh? Hadn't seen or heard of them in a while. Keeping to themselves finally are they? Or have the Decepticons won their war again?"

Rusti looked cross, "I think we're a little more interested in your vessel, Ma'am."

The alien female finally gave her eye contact and turned around. "This way." Her rear end swung from side to side as her feet ate up flooring before them. Rusti rolled her eyes, reminding herself how often Rodimus would tell her that people were the same everywhere in the universe.

"Here we have the Four Crowns. Emergency landing gear, 3,000 x 4,000 cargo hold, two com-channel communication, 78-weight fuel system with manual navigation and rear thruster force of 1700 tons. Might be small, but mighty and no doubt what you need. The price is ninety-four on a two-K monthly plan."

"Too small." Koontah objected.

"The only one here."

"Maybe, but it's too small for ninety."

"Ninety-four-"

"Yes. And there may be a crew of fifty or better. Thank you."

Rusti and Koontah moved on. Beyond two machine shops, a dumpy, condemned building and a chrome shop, an access stairwell invited them to the lower city. But the ambassador bypassed the access stairs and crossed the street to an ancient shipping yard. Koontah shook his head. "This was not a great place to find anything other than cheap merchandise."

They found yet another place just down the road. At the front lot stood three sleek, darkly-colored ships proudly washed and polished.

A four-armed alien approached them wiping his hands. His lower left hand removed a pipe from his mouth. He eyed Rusti, making her uncomfortable then he smiled, displaying a mouth filled with double rows of blunt teeth. "Looking for a pair of wings, friends? You found the right place!"

"Do you have your specs on hand?" Koontah asked as Rusti tried to peer into the open hatch of one ship named Pegasaur.

"Oh yeah! Stay right there. I'll fetch it for you." And the alien took off. Rusti felt drawn to the ship. She touched the cool dark metal surface and found it painted. Cheap. The Pegasaur seemed to want to be sold and her touch called its name. But it was not the right vessel for them, either. In the back of her mind she heard Koontah and the alien discussing all the points of the ship; good and bad. But she already knew the ship was wrong. It had no autopilot and no computerized interface or compatible upgrade systems. And Autobots had a thing about being able to upgrade their machines at a moment's notice.

She returned to Koontah. "It has no autopilot, Koontah, nor does it have the upgrade systems we need."

The alien, who had been gabbing up to the moment shut his mouth and stared at her dumbfounded. "How did you know that?"

Koontah graciously smiled and handed her the digipad. "She's very intuitive. Thank you so much for your time." and he left hoping she would follow likewise.

Rusti tagged him but at a slower pace. Her eyes drifted from one ship to another, measuring their physique and sensing the combination of attributes. She lingered a few moments at another place where two ships, the Andromeda Continental and Astronomy 9 waited her inspection. Without a word to Koontah or the merchant, she approached the 'Astronomy first. It was a good sturdy ship with strong frame, designed with combat in mind.

Koontah noticed her footsteps were not behind and he spotted her slowly entering one ship. He waited for the merchant to approach.

"Onlookers, or serious buyers?" the merchant was a bit rude, but Koontah let it slide.

"Serious buyers. Maybe. Depends on what she finds."

"A bit small in stature for that kind of ship, isn't she?"

"Depends on what she can handle."

Rusti boarded the vessel and smelled its metallic air. The compartments here were a bit small to stash weapons and supplies. The bridge was ideal, autopilot recently installed. But the ship had a 90-weight fuel system and used tri-copper charging boosters, which wore out easily. She left the ship and looked to the 'Continental and realized it had similar systems.

"No. The ships have tri-copper chargers, Koontah. And they only have the 90-weight fuel."

The merchant removed the candy from his mouth. "Yeah. That bad?"

Koontah lifted his eyes from the girl, "we need something with greater capabilities: battle-worthy, not just space-faring."

"Oh." Well, I have a couple others in the back if you're not in too much a rush."

Rusti caught his eyes expectantly.

They traveled past the first vessels and down stairs to another large hanger with an open door. Three handsome ships stood at dock, one covered in plastic.

"This is the Cold Refractor, the Thermosphere and the Celestial Dancer. But they'll cost you if you're looking for some serious works."

Rusti walked past him, listening more to what the ships said about themselves. She laid her hand on the Cold Refractor and it boasted of good fuel reserves, powerful boosters and enough cargo hold for a shuttle and supplies. The autopilot was up to date and the navigation controls were accurate within fifty feet. Even the take-off speed was over 2600 mph. The girl turned to Koontah and the businessperson.

"Are all these ships the same? I mean, of the same specs?"

"Well, that depends on what you are after, Ma'am." the merchant answered carefully."

"Do they have rear thruster capacity of two hundred thousand?"

"Um . . ."

"Phase four emergency landing gear?"

"Um, yeah . . ."

"Full computerized interface with compatible upgrade systems?"

"You know your ships. Yes, to all of them. And they have 150-weight fuel systems."

Rusti touched the Thermosphere, "They also have the zeta-silver charging boosters, Koontah."

The merchant clasped his hands together in anticipation. "So! Which one would you like to take to your home world today?"

Koontah grinned, "we'll take all three."

* * *

"What now?" Rusti's stomach told her it was empty but she doubted they would eat again for a while. Business before nature, she supposed. 

"Now we need to talk to one Captain Morrcross about transportation."

"You mean someone who can deliver the ships?"

"Exactly."

They approached a fancy restaurant and Koontah paused with a bit of reflection in his face. "Hmmm." He turned to her with fuzzy ears raised, "hungry?"

They were served meat and veggies the likes of which Rusti had never seen, but could not resist. It seemed the food, everywhere on this world was very good. It occurred to her exactly why she was chosen for this assignment; not just because she'd be out of everyone's way, but because the ambassador would take care of her.

Rusti unfolded a cloth napkin and placed it over her lap. A waitress set a basket of hot pretzels between the girl and Koontah.

"Please let me know if you need something more," the waitress offered. Koontah thanked her kindly as she smiled and withdrew.

. . . she smiled and withdrew.

. . . she smiled and withdrew.

Rusti's eyes bounced from her plate to the basket. The world around her wobbled like ripples on the still water of a pond. The girl flinched, batted her eyes and reached for her water. That could not have happened. As her hand passed over her plate, the world slowed to a crawl. Some customers froze altogether. A tall woman dressed in fine clothes walked in slow motion. She looked at Rusti as if nothing were wrong. A sharply dressed waiter bowed to a customer and very slowly took his hat and coat. Another waiter poured water for a different customer. The water dribbled; each drop reluctant to leave the pitcher. And there came no sound. Then all movement returned to normal as if God had pressed the universe's remote control from slow to normal play.

Rusti searched for a clock, but upon finding none, looked back to Koontah who stared at her. "You felt that, didn't you?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"A fluctuation in the time streams."

Her brows knitted. "Is that what it was? You mean the Matrix Virus had nothing to do with it?"

Koontah did not seem surprised or confused by her question. He took a sip of drink and dabbed his mouth. "A time storm approaches. You are apparently sensitive to such things. What did you see?"

She hesitated, her eyes stared into nothing and drifted across the room as though to make sure normality was a constant. "Everything goes slow like they're caught up in a warp. It's as if there's reality and unreality, if you know what I mean. As if the world were some tv set I was watching. Over the last few years I've seen things. I don't know if they're real or not, but I remember them. In fact, I had a creepy dream last night. Something about a space outpost . . . a lot of women were sick-there were all kinds, too. Human and alien women . . ." Rusti shook her head. She did not want to mention the Quintessons in her dream. "Well . . . It's hard to describe it all. But it didn't feel like a dream. Sometimes it's as if the world were all normal and I'm the anomaly."

The Ambassador bore into her with large dark eyes. Rusty thought she could be swallowed by his solemn stare and chills snaked down her back. He nodded, "The time lines are corrupted."

"I don't know what you mean."

"That which we call reality is slowly unraveling, allowing other events to take place, either out of sequence, or alternate to what things should be. People are affected more so. They are either changed in some way, or replaced by someone else entirely. What you experienced as a dream might have actually happened."

"But why is it happening to me? "

Koontah thought it over a moment, his gaze never leaving her. "I don't know . . . yet. It is possible that your consciousness is an extension of the time lines struggling to correct themselves." Koontah lowered his gaze another moment, reflecting. He caught her eyes again, "Do you know where it all went wrong?"

She shook her head.

"When the Quintessons brought Optimus Prime back to life. He was supposed to have stayed dead."

That caught her breath, "No! Don't say things like that!"

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

"That an entire species will perish and with them, all those with whom they are associated." Rusti blinked, wondering how she came up with that answer.

Koontah's gaze lingered, though he displayed no emotion. After some silence, he finally drew a breath, "I suspect that eventually one decision, Rusti, will determine your entire life: both your future and your past."

Had she really listened to what he said, Rusti would not have brushed his comment aside so lightly. She laid her napkin on the table and her eyes tore from the ambassador's. "I'm afraid for Optimus Prime"

"You mean regarding the Virus? So am I."

* * *

Britannia, head engineer from Fort Sagittarius, held the front balancer of the parameter scanner to the Interrogator. "Just one more quarter turn." Magnus held the underplate protection grid as Cloudstreaker fine-tuned the frequency readout antennae. 

"Try it now!" Cloudstreaker called from the underside. She waited while the engineer flipped the manual switch and watched for the antennae to swivel left to right on its own. Magnus hoped the damned thing worked this time.

"There!!" Britannia squealed like a young girl who just got a puppy for a present. "It's working!

"Yo, guys!" Blaster called through their interpersonal com channels. "The TV and radio are working and lookit, our fave show is on the air! Strike Back is callin' in!"

Cloudstreaker raced into the Interrogator ahead of Magnus and exchanged excited smiles with Arcee who currently worked on repairs to the weapons control relays. Magnus stomped in while Britannia finished bolting the last security straps.

". . . is . . . from Mars."

Magnus gripped the top of Blaster's seat. His fingers dug into the chair's metal, anxious for better reception. "Blaster?"

"Yeah, I know there, Big Guy. Gimme a sec here. Lota damage and I gotta cut through channel static." It took Blaster another few minutes while the other three stood about in dire anticipation. "There!" he cried with joy, "Yo! Mars! This is Fort Draco's Interrogator, Blaster shoutin' atcha from Lunarphyte. Ya got me?"

There was one maybe two seconds before Strike Back's relieved voice filtered through the comlines. Arcee and Cloudstreaker yipped with joy and hugged each other.

"Oh, thank Primus! We-we've been through the Pitt up here."

"Sh, sh!" Blaster hushed the excited femmes. He about giggled himself. "Uh, sorry 'bout that, up there. What's yer status, guys?"

Sounds of electricity snapped over the com channel and Magnus imagined things up there were not much better than planet-side. "Uhh . . . condition not so good, Blaster. I'm afraid only three ships escaped,. No supplies." Strike Back paused a moment, "they took us completely by surprise."

Magnus leaned forward, "Strike Back, have you talked with the other ships? We've lost all communications until just now."

"Yeah . . .yeah, Ultra Magnus?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Is-oh Primus, is Optimus there with you guys? I mean, by any stretch of the imagination?"

Magnus glanced at the ladies seeing how their expressions matched his. "No."

"I-I didn't want to leave him-"

"Strike Back, how are the other ships? Is everyone else up there alright?" Magnus redirected.

"Um, mostly. I managed to patch in limited-range frequencies with the Gabriel Genesis and the Hannibal's Mark. They have several wounded and others in stasis. Planetary and long distance communications have been completely cut off. The other ships have sent people to me . . . for the most part, we're okay, but uh, the Black Horizon and the Crested Moon can't land anytime soon. Supplies are all but gone."

"Alright. Hang in there, Strike Back, we'll try to get supplies up to you as soon as possible. Shut down all unnecessary equipment and personnel if you can."

"Roger, Magnus. I'm . . . I'm sorry about Optimus Prime."

Magnus allowed Blaster to sign off and left the ship to think. What were they to do from here?

* * *

The Autobots labored through the afternoon and by sunset, managed to get one vessel, the Trench Driver, fully operational. But as excited as the Autobots were with the accomplishment of one fully-repaired ship, their weariness kept them from celebrating. It would take at least another two weeks before the other vessels were ready for lift-off. 

Magnus was never more grateful the Dinobots were with them. The Dinos, no matter how heavy the loads they were asked to lift, did not grumble or complain. Magnus lavished all kinds of praise on them and promised a game after everyone was done and rested. Sludge and Swoop took this to heart and chattered about the idea through several more hours of work.

The sun was nearly spent by the time Magnus finished adjusting the Interrogator's underwings. He recalibrated the shielding fields as someone crouched to peer under the wing for his attention.

"Lookit this! Mags, I don't think I've seen you work so hard before."

It was Roddi's cheerful voice-an honestly cheerful voice that rang in the city commander's audios like one of Rusti's jump rope songs. Rodimus' color was more or less back. His optics were brighter with energy. Magnus snorted with a half-smile and closed the control panel.

He pulled himself out and noticed splotches of grease added to his battered and scratched exterior. The city commander nabbed a nearby towel and tried to make himself a bit more presentable. "Doing your job is not my idea of fun, Rodimus."

"Well, I missed you too, Big Guy. Where's Rusti?"

"With Ambassador Koontah. Jazz thought it a good idea to send her with him to find us a couple of good ships."

Oh! Right. The ships. How's everything?"

"How are **you**?'

"I asked first."

"I'm more interested in your condition."

"Well, alright, since you're going to be stubborn about it. I'm doing better. Uh, I think it's Gryph's physician, I'm not sure, but she came in and gave me something to nibble on. How about supplies, Magnus? Have we-"

"Deliveries have been arriving all day. I've put everyone on three-hour shifts with an hour break in between so no one gets too worn out. But we're all really exhausted, Rodimus."

"Yeah. You've done a great job, Mags. I've been told one of the ships is all ready to go."

Magnus patted the wing of the Interrogator. "Two of them now," he answered proudly. He had to look away a bit embarrassed because Rodimus practically glowed with pride and gratitude.

Roddi flinched when Wavelength shouted over the interpersonal comlines, calling their attention to incoming sea vessels from the south-east.

Magnus set his tools down, "Might be the ambassador."

Rodimus followed Magnus toward the southeastern shoreline. They were joined by Jazz and Convoy who just finished her resting period.

Through the darkness, Rodimus spotted a small fleet of jets escorting a huge craft carrier to the island. The carrier anchored a quarter of a mile off shore, sending gentle rolling waves as far as thirty feet inland. A smaller boat zipped from the carrier to the island, bearing two Human assistants in armored uniform, Ambassador Koontah and Rusti.

The group disembarked from the small boat and Koontah and Rusti approached ahead of the two guardsmen.

Rusti wanted to rush to Roddi and give him the biggest hug she could offer, but Koontah asked her help guide him as he could not see. She did not understand the blindfold, but courteously assisted him.

Koontah patted Rusti's hand on his elbow and he gazed upward as ties to his blindfold fluttered lazily in the breeze. Rusti whispered the order in which the Autobots stood. The ambassador smiled. "Ah! Ultra Magnus, Rodimus Prime. I hope things have been smooth for you."

"Well . . ." Magnus glanced back, taking full scope of the crews of Autobots, Humans, aliens and equipment, "we've been productive."

Roddi grinned at the Major-general's modest answer.

Koontah nodded, "I talked Captain Morrcross out of his Lady Crescent back there. The captain's a bugger to bargain with. He loves his ships."

All three commanders' optics drifted to the carrier Koontah called " Lady Crescent" and wondered if that was the carrier's name, or the cargo stowed on it. The Major-General smiled warily. "You'll extend our gratitude to Captain Morrcross for his help-"

"Of course!" Koontah replied cheerfully. "He's not a stingy man, just a bit over-protective of his babies. Now all you need is a small crew to fly the ship. She'll take you to your ships in space and back quickly and safely. I like the Lady Crescent , she's a brave thing, strong and fast."

Rodimus found no words to convey his personal gratitude. He knew Optimus would eventually go out of his way to return all the favors the Physicians selflessly bestowed upon the Autobots. "I hear we have three new ships," he knelt before the Wanakian ambassador and grinned at Rusti.

"Yes!" Koontah replied lightly, "all of them of your lady's choosing. I was not entirely aware she had telemechanics. A rare gift. Especially among humans."

Roddi's optics narrowed in a proud smile. "She's rare. And I don't even know where to begin to thank you for all your help, Ambassador."

Koontah slipped his hands into his pockets. "So what are your plans from here, Rodimus Prime?"

"Well . . . Optimus Prime told me that he believes we might be able to heal the Matrix. But since he's not here, we'll have to rendezvous with him on a planet called Cratis-"

"CRATIS?!" It was the first time either Rodimus or Magnus heard the ambassador raise his voice. "What under God's heaven would Prime . . . that is no place for refugees, children or wounded! It's a lousy vacation spot."

Magnus gazed to Roddi who wordlessly shrugged. He watched the ambassador fall silent, head bowed in thought. "Well," Koontah conceded, "I suppose that means we must repair the rest of these ships as quickly as possible. There is very little time. A temporal storm approaches and these vessels do not have shield capacity immune to shifting."

"Shifting?" Roddi stood and Rusti read anxiety in his optics.

"Yes. Rusti here tells me you have been experiencing temporal instability."

"Yes," Roddi's countenance turned to a dead frown. "More often than I can count."

"The storm will be rough. Without shields, your equipment and people will be vulnerable to time shifts. Shifts can upset environmental balances, change circumstances, replace personalities, and people. I'm trying to hold it back but it must pass. The Quintessons have tampered with time so much it's difficult to keep the streams from rippling. I fear eventually I will be forced to advance the time lines by several years to stabilize reality.'

The other thing, Rodimus: during the storm, I can send you to your original home. The dimensional walls will be thin enough to calculate distances and alternate realities."

Rodimus stared. "Home?" he almost could not say it.

Rusti's face contorted with puzzlement. "What's that mean, 'original home'? What are you talking about?"

Magnus winced.

Rodimus' lip components lined with guilt. "Oh boy."

Koontah's attention turned from the Autobots to the girl beside him. "I . . . suspect that topic was supposed to be a secret. Allow me to apologize: I'm very, very sorry, Rodimus Prime."

Rodimus offered a tight, forced smile. "It's not your fault, Ambassador. It's um, we never told Rusti."

The girl's cheeks warmed with dread, "told me what?"

Rodimus cast his optics to the sky before lowering them to her: "Rusti . . . I'm not the Rodimus from this reality. There was an accident many years before you were born and the Hot Rod from this reality . . . well, he died when the Quintessons brought me here. The accident gave me all his memories and parts of his personality. But, um, . . . I'm not the original Hot Rod."

Rusti could not breathe and she stumbled back. Koontah caught her. "whoa, there. Easy. Let's find a place for you to sit a moment, shall we?"

She paid no attention as Koontah managed around debris and puddles without her assistance. Rusti kept glancing back to the Rodimus she thought she knew.

Koontah eased her on a closed crate and sat beside her in silence. Rodimus eyed her from the distance as Gryph approached with the latest report. The other three commanders broke from the group to continue repairs.

Rusti sat for a long time, struggling to sort everything out. No one really lied to her, she was simply not told. The girl softly laughed to herself. "I guess it really doesn't matter, does it, Ambassador?"

"Hmm?"

"That he's not from here, from this dimension. But he's still . . . he's still Roddi. And maybe there's a reason it happened, you know?"

"That's very brave of you, Rusti. His love for you has never changed."

"No. Mine won't either. And Optimus . . . he knows, doesn't he?"

Koontah grinned, "What doesn't he know?"

"Yes." Rusti shared the grin, feeling a little better. "Do you think he's okay? I mean, I know he has to be-"

"If I know anything about Optimus Prime, my Dear, it's that he's a survivor. And from what I understand, he loves you tremendously. He will do whatever it takes to get back to you."

Rusti choked with those words and Koontah embraced her.

* * *

The Autobots completely dismantled the Runka and repaired other ships with her materials. They held short a ceremony to decommission the Runka while EDC officers Shawndria Molleson and Britt Hanson confirmed to Jazz the Crested Moon was fully operational. 

By four AM (Earth-time) Rodimus sensed a disturbance in the air; a tingle that registered as minute icicles. He wanted to ask Magnus, but decided against it, counting the sensation as internal adjustments to the alien planet's atmosphere.

Inside the Sagittarian Mozart, Britannia and Titanium repaired the polar inversion radar system. Sideswipe, Targetmaster Sureshot and Monsterbot Repugnus labored over the landing gear under the Mozart while Slag, Snarl and Sludge carefully held the vessel aloft.

Dangling upside down, Sideswipe wielded some of the new neutron-free selenium sheeting around the tri-piston restarts. He lifted the torch shield from his optics and reached for Sureshot as the Targetmaster cleverly used Spoilsport's weapon mode to nail and seal the underside planking.

"Hey, Sure, hand me another sheeting, would ya?"

Sureshot paused in his work and swept down to haul up fresh selenium. Spoilsport vibrated in his other hand.

"Hey, what is this, Christmas? I wanna finish the job and get a cold shower."

"This isn't the time to whine," the Targetmaster answered his reluctant partner. But Spoilsport wrested himself free from the weary Autobot's grip. He transformed in mid-air from gun-mode to robot and pointed at his partner.

"My internal temperature is reaching intolleration point and you're telling me not to whine??"

Sureshot only frowned, too tired to argue with someone he'd just be as happy to drown. "There's no such word as 'intolleration'," he answered quietly. He picked up a second sheet while Spoilsport kicked up a dirt clod.

"NOT FUNNY!"

Spoilsport's little voice annoyed the nearby Monsterbot. Repugnus switched off his torch and hissed. "Quiet. Work."

Sureshot's weariness only made him crankier. "See? Now you got us both in trouble."

"Don't care! Don't care! I'm off for a shower." And the Targetmaster moved three paces before Sureshot slammed the sheeting down.

"Hey, come on!" Sideswipe complained. "Let's get this done!"

"Get back here!" the Targetmaster ordered.

"Not in THIS life time, Pal!"

"QUIET!"

Everyone stared at the Monsterbot, annoyed. But he ignored their scowls as he approached the dropped sheeting. His huge, freakish head turned so one audio sensor then another picked up the tiniest sounds. "Wait." he ordered. And his huge head, his whole body shrank to the size of an Earth insect.

This surprised Sludge who dropped his side of the ship. Sureshot kissed the ground and Sideswipe squeaked as the ground came just bare millimeters from smashing his nose. "G'eek?"

"Hey!" Titanium called over the comm, "whoa, down there. Take it easy. What's going on?"

"Nothing." Sideswipe grunted. "Just a Dinobutt."

Titanium and Britannia heard a clank and Sureshot spat a foul word or two then came Spoilsport's protest: "Hey! I'm a warrior's weapon, not an over glorified water pistol!"

Titanium rubbed his face. A good steam-cleaning would be a magnificent luxury. But he'd settle for a bit of silence for half an hour.

The in-lateral quartz chip cracked in Britannia's hand and she thunked her head against the bulkhead. "Damnit! Slag-sucking left-overs!"

Titanium stretched his fatigued back as Spoilsport started up another bout of complaining. "How about taking a short break?"

The radar blinked and softly bleeped once.

The Autobots jumped to the board and waited with dread for the radar to blink again.

Britannia startled when the radar repeated the signal. The computer identified three oblong ships entering the solar system. The Autobot femme glided her long fingers across the newly-repaired board and ordered the Mozart to communicate with Fort Zenith's Dancing Siren in space. Communication eked in and Britannia turned to an impatient Titanium. "Quintessons, Sir. Almost from nowhere."

Titanium relayed the message but could not get through to Rodimus.

Convoy's auto mode raced at whiplash speed and slammed on her brakes, spewing dust and debris. Rodimus spat three unholy words in two different languages and crawled from under the Frostbite. "WHAT THE PITT ARE YOU DOING?!!"

"Sir! We got Quintessons on sight!"

"Not possible. This sector of space is protected from invaders. They have border patrols "

"I'm sorry, Rodimus. They came from NOWHERE and they're heading like the fury of Primus!"

The storm hit. Rodimus' form rippled, faded, stretched like a dried rubber band. His body ached and he held his head as though it were going to blow. He did not hear Convoy scream. He did not see other Autobots fall to the ground in a slow, blurred motion. The ocean surrounding the island drew back, pushed by some great invisible hand. The wreckage of the Northern Axe sunk further into the ground then phased out of existence altogether.

Koontah managed to drag Rusti aboard the Vertical Horizon and staggered against the hatch wall. He fumbled blindly before finding the emergency switch and withdrew the plank. The ship closed to the outside world and its shields automatically kicked on, protecting those five Autobots still working inside.

"Koontah!" Rusti crawled to him and thought she was going to lose everything she ate the day before. "Everyone else is out there!"

"I know," Koontah answered breathlessly. "Look directly at me. Keep my attention focused on your eyes. I'm going to remove my blindfold."

"What?"

He lowered his blindfold and opened his dark triangular eyes. They sparked brilliant white and Rusti cringed from the sight. "Don't move! I can't do this without you. I have to concentrate. Hold still."

The girl summoned her resolve and kept her eyes focused on his. Thunder crackled about the ship and a terrible windstorm ensued. The Autobots and three EDC officers shouted at one another, demanding to know what was going on. Twin Twist turned to the girl. But when Rusti did not answer, he grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

She screamed, kicking uselessly against his metal body. The ambassador's form slumped to the floor.

"LES TEK'NAUK!" the girl screamed a foul curse in Autobot at Twin Twist.

You watch your mouth, girly-"

"SHUT UP YOU SCREW-HEAD!! GET AWAY FROM ME! **NOW**!!" Even with her human voice, she managed to sound out with such authority that the Autobot did as he was told. Rusti crawled to Koontah's fallen form and touched the soft fuzzy fur along his face. "Please," she begged, "please get up. We need help."

EDC officer Jessamine Goodin joined the girl on the floor and scanned the ambassador's life signs. "His heart rate is critical. What was he doing?"

"I-I don't know. He didn't say. He took off his blindfold . . . " Rusti searched the floor for the blue blindfold and tugged at it from under his body. Perhaps there was something magical about it. She folded it and gently tied it back about his eyes.

The ship softly rocked and Selenium ran the scanners. "We've got serious disturbance coming our way, People. Suggestions?"

Rusti glanced from Goodin to the Autobot femme, "Selenium, contact Blaster if you can. See if he's on the Razor Lady. If so, ask him to create a ship-to-ship tractor beam and ride on that frequency to create a connective shield."

All those in the room stared at the girl who was lucky if she could tell the difference between a hand-held calculator and a wristwatch. Rusti ignored them, not actually realizing what she just said. She waited, hoping Koontah would snap to life in time.

He gulped in breath and whimpered before forcing himself from the floor, supporting all his will and weight by his arms.

Rusti laid her hands on his solid shoulders. "Koontah, Ambassador, what can I do to help?"

Goodin laid a hand on his shoulder. "Can I get you anything to drink, Ambassador?"

"No, no. Just . . . just give me a moment to recover. Thank you for replacing the blind . . ." He covered his face and took several deep breaths. "Alright, alright. I have to try this again, but it needs to be in a place where I will not have eye contact with any Autobots or anyone wearing robotic suits."

Rusti gave Goodin a puzzled look but the officer did not know anything more than the girl. Rusti took to her feet and she and Goodin helped Koontah to his, guiding him off the bridge into the launching bay. There Koontah sank to his knees again and bowed over. Rusti knelt before him, trying not to panic. "What can we do to help?"

Koontah undid the blindfold while the ship rocked and this time, it slid along the ground. He stared into her eyes, realizing they were fading from blue back to grey. "Rusti, I have to open a conduit to keep the Quintessons from ripping this planet apart. They're using the electromagnetic fields to phase from one place to another. The Autobots must be ready to leave."

She gripped him fearfully, "come with us!"

He shook his head. "I can't. Not in this condition. Find someplace safe and secure; it's going to be rough."

"But . . . I can't leave-"

"Go! I'll be fine, now! Go! And thank you for your help!"

Goodin gripped Rusti's arm and they backed out of the landing bay. Rusti ached in fear for him as she and the Autobots strapped themselves down, preparing for the worst.

Outside the sky grew ugly, aflame with white and red as the planet's electromagnetic fields ripped from its poles. The tiny island began to glow with another power, charged with dark matter and gamma-wave life force. It built until the aura around the island could no longer contain the force and then it blew, spewing energy around the circumference of the planet and its breathable atmospheres. The twisted Quintesson ships shot back, spinning end over end out of control through deeper space. One ship smashed into another, ending both vessels and many lives. A second Quintesson star cruiser exploded in a fireball when Strike Back ordered all weapons on a free-fire.

The weapons array created yet another power field, surrounding those Autobot vessels prepared to land on or the island below. The field blew wide then imploded, dragging everything in a hundred and fifteen thousand mile stretch from that part of Lunarphyte.

* * *

Rusti sat pinned against a wall, Goodin beside her. Neither spoke for the longest time. The shock of events kept everything still and silent. Then from the bridge, Roddi's voice sounded over the comline. 

"Is . . . is anyone hurt? Are we all still here?"

Rusti blinked, doubting that either Autobot or Human were capable of actually moving. It was as if they were pressed through a keyhole in hell. She couldn't stop trembling. Whatever took place was exactly what Koontah forewarned.

Then Gryph's voice filtered over the ship-to-ship comline. "Here, Rodimus. All twenty of us on the Confiscator are still here."

Tektonix called in with his strong gruff voice. Kup's voice meekly followed and then Strike Back called in-but he was no longer in space. "I think we should step outside and take a look."

The Autobots managed to get themselves together while Humans and the Head/Target masters had greater difficulty recovering. Rusti remained seated until an Autobot femme came to check on the crew. Vaguely Rusti heard Twin Twist call the femme Trinket, the assigned medic to Mars.

"THERE you are!" Another femme gazed down at the girl with a great smile. "Arcee was asking about you. Are you alright?"

That was Trixy. Rusti blinked, just barely remembering Trixy. She could not answer the Autobot. Her mind drifted to Koontah and wondered if he was alright. The girl forced herself to her feet, her balance questionable. But stagger as she did, she managed to the landing bay and opened the doors. Trixy watched her curious behavior and counted the girl was simply disoriented.

Koontah was not there.

"Ambassador?" Rusti's little voice barely piped above a whisper. "Koontah?"

No sight nor hint of him was to be found. Rusti turned back to Trixy, feeling abandoned and weary. "He's gone."

Not knowing what the girl was talking about, the femme only offered a shake of her head and a puzzled expression. "Well, maybe Rodimus knows where he might have gone. Meanwhile, your father is looking for you."

Rusti rolled her eyes, but could summon no words of argument. She followed Trixy off the ship and greeted a colder, more barren world. Winds whipped at her hair and tore at her clothes. A light but freezing rain pinched her skin with ice as she traveled over hard rocky ground. Everyone, Autobots, Humans, aliens, searched for answers and checked on everyone else. The refugees came to life and for the first time, Rusti realized, all the ships from earth were now in one place.

"Incoming!! Scanners at one o clock!!" Cloudstreaker raced from the Armored Crest to the Interrogator. Rodimus, Magnus and Jazz jumped out from three different places while Trixy and Rusti ran for cover. But what came down was not what they expected.

"Hold your fire!" Rodimus cried out, "It's got an Autobot signature!!"

Two seconds, three. And the object plunged to the hard unforgiving ground, leaving a short hot trail of burned dirt. Headmaster Siren rushed out and foamed the object to reduce temperature. The smoke cleared and a soft weary moan drifted from the object.

Magnus took one step forward, "I don't believe it! It can't be!"

"Ain't no way!" Jazz agreed.

Rodimus bravely approached the little yellow robotic figure lying in the freshly burned trench. He peered closer.

"Bumblebee?"

**LOCATION: Aquarius Tri-Stellar IV, (later)**

** The Gambling asteroid of Monicus****  
****EARTH DATE: ** **November 15, 2038**

Having recovered his gyro-gun, Swindle held Galvatron and Prime at gun point using his buddy's nuclear atomizer. The Combaticon con artist supervised' while his companion securely bound the three to the building's ancient support beams. "Ya know, in spite a runnin' inta these three miserable slave-yard rejects, this whole trip's been swell. I think we've procured enough stuff ta swap and shop for the next two weeks, Painter, ol' pal. As for these losers, they're a waste of space. I'm kinda surprised ya didn't jus' blow their lights. Say, we can still do that, can't we?"

Kinda nice seein' ol' Galvatron over there all girlied up like some earth broad ready ta get run over by the train. Ya know, I've always wondered why they never show her gettin' hit by the train in those old movies, anyway. Kinda boring. Here they promise a good gore scene and some bleeding-heart hero comes an' ruins it. I hate Earth flicks.'

Cept them horror flicks. Lots a good stuff there. Ya done yet, Painter? I say let's bomb this bunk. Blowing up an old building is nuthin' new and nobody on this planet would miss these clownoids."

Thirty-four minutes and twenty-nine seconds of listening to Swindle. Galvatron banged his head against the old support beam, bringing down dust from the dilapidated ceiling. The dust sprayed lightly over both Galvatron and Prime, making Prime's mood a little worse.

"Can it, Swindle, we're going deaf."

"Oh yeah?" Swindle retorted, "Whattya gonna do about it, Prime, hu? Ya sittin there like an aluminum duck beggin' ta be shot and you whine? There ain't nuthin' ya can do now. Course, I can do lotsa stuff, like give ya a shot a my gyro-gun here and then I could make ya walk around like some glop who got hisself all tapped out on radium. Ain't gonna look pretty, there, but I'd be fallin' apart with laughter. How about we go on that round, hu?"

The Gobot yanked at Prime's new-found cloak and gripped it tightly in the Autobot's face. "This mine!" he spat. "My girlfriend's mom's lover' sister gave this to me!"

Galvatron looked disgusted. "That belongs to you?" His and Prime's optics shot at Cyclonus who still leaked from his wound. Galvatron leaned a bit closer to Prime. "Would you like me to sterilize that?"

Optimus gave him a confused, second-glanced look.

"Come, Swindle. Other business calls." The Gobot plucked the weapons procured from the three Transformers, acquired his atomizer from Swindle and started out the room.

"Ya know, Painter, we could probably use these three chumps for a better profit than that one lowly Autobot I sold to yer family several years ago."

The Gobot glared at the Decepticon con artist. "No messes. No loose ties." and he took another two stomps toward the hall when Swindle spun to him, grabbing his powerful arm.

"Hey! Hey! What'd I tell ya? Take every opportunity that's offered. I mean, do you know who these clownoids are? Huh? I mean-heh-we could get a nice price on their heads OR we could get a nice price for their parts on the slavery market."

"Sister's wedding is in two days. She'll kill me if I don't show. You promised we'd be on time."

"Yeah, but . . ." and here Swindle set his optics on Prime. "But . . . we have the leader of da Autobots here in our hands-and what better a deal ta make than ta offer him and Galvatron as a packaged deal, huh? Am I getting through to ya? Listen, you big lug, have I steered you wrong yet?"

Painter turned to Galvatron, a frown creasing his face.

Prime's optics darkened. "Swindle, how would you like to be divided into four equal parts, and strategically relocated around the city?"

"Hey!" the Gobot protested, "no threatening the Swindster! He's good friend and business partner!"

"The 'Swindster'?" Galvatron and Prime chorused.

"Awe, don't pay any attention to Prime," Swindle waved away, "he's just an Autobot. But listen up, Painter, look, as an Autobot leader, he could have some scientific value. And most likely Galvatron has a nice price on his head. I'm willing to bet that even Decetron might pay nicely for his caboose, eh?"

"Decetron?" Galvatron echoed softly, "that's the second time I've heard that name."

The Gobot turned from Swindle to the two and back again. He was clearly indecisive. "You're good friend, Swindle. Done lots of fun with me. But you promised to be at sister's wedding on Pairan and we have to go!"

Swindle's answer came delayed. His red optics dimmed and lighted in thought then, "Ah!" His whole face lighted up, "I got it! We'll take them with us to Pairan and sell their heads there!" Painter crossed his arms. "What's a matter?" Swindle looked concerned. "Don'tcha wanna make some money?"

"Potential trouble."

At first Swindle looked cross but then his face raised in a smile and he laid a hand on the Gobot's shoulder. "Yer worried cuz you're new to all this. I understand, Buddy. Lookit, how about ya just pilot da ship and I'll handle the wheelin' and dealin', eh?"

Galvatron entertained the idea of tearing Swindle and his Gobot pleasure-buddy into shreds. But with the atomizer pointed at them, the Decepticon thought it unwise to do anything rash. Besides, transport off this backwater planet was not so bad a thing. He and Prime could ambush the two and take the ship later.

The big lug of a Gobot unchained Cyclonus from the wall and secured his hands. He tossed the injured Decepticon over his shoulder like a bag of merchandise. Then Painter waited for Swindle while holding Prime and Galvatron at gunpoint.

"Alright, you two junk piles," Swindle undid their bonds then chained their hands behind their backs and raised his scatter blaster at their backs. "On yer feet! Let's go!"

Galvatron and Prime followed Painter out the building into a world cast by the shadows of nightfall. Swindle kept an extra optic on them until they were a good thirty feet from the building. Painter paused and turned to Swindle.

"Clear?"

"Yeah," Swindle answered impatiently. "Clear as glass. Now call the ship for Cybertron's sake!"

Prime's exostructure pricked as fine laser points burned him a million times over. The Transformers and Ag-al-arnoth transported to Painter's vessel. They stepped off a modest landing pad and Prime and Galvatron glanced at their surroundings. Where or how did Swindle acquire a ship with molecular transport capabilities? Prime tuned to Galvatron, the question in his optics but Galvatron looked just as surprised. The ship came loaded with illegal articles of one sort or another. Many items hung from the walls or peeked out from half-closed compartments.

An ugly crack marred the front view windshield . Nearby the flooring beneath them rattled slightly and Prime grimaced at a slight unsanitary odor sneaking up from the engines. Galvatron spotted a familiar chest and dared guess what it contained.

"Still hoarding death crystals, eh, Swindle?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Mind yer own business, Galvatron, ya two-bit bloak!" Swindle ordered them into the main deck and opened an empty, dark storage compartment.

"Oh, yeah, " Galvatron almost sang, "he's got death crystals."

Prime only looked confused. "What are death crystals? And Swindle, you could get arrested by the constabulary for that cracked windshield. Your baratine retrofitters are vibrating and you have a leaking conduit in your environmental controls."

Swindle swung about and pointed his gyro gun at both leaders. "Shuddup! Just shuddup! I'm already sick a' you two! One more sound and yer tag-along's gonna to get spaced!!"

"Sheesh." Galvatron winced.

Prime shrugged.

The ship shot out of orbit with the ease of a great bird and in a matter of minutes, they escaped planetary deep space scanners.

* * *

Prime settled on the floor inside the storage compartment. He had no intention to remain passive about the situation. But for the moment, his systems were reluctant to follow his will. 

Galvatron scanned the compartment with sonadar and x-rays. "Five-ply micro-braided tungsten steel carbonite. Nice."

"There is a trap door." Prime added quietly. "I doubt, however, either of us will fit. Smuggling ships rarely use large spaces."

"Hmph. And you know this how?"

"Hitchhiking." Prime felt Galvatron's grinning approval in the dark. "We could tear the trap door off, Galvatron. Use it as a shield." Only the Decepticon's optics glowed visibly in the dark; they sparked with the light of determination, undying will. Prime doubted his own optics glowed as brightly, as clearly. _Because I'm dying_, he thought grimly.

Galvatron digressed, "No. I do not wish to put Cyclonus at risk."

"Neither do I." Prime concurred.

After pacing for twenty-five minutes, Galvatron settled on the floor beside Prime "I'm bored." he grunted. How did we get into this? Humiliating!"

Prime's optics dimmed. "Not exactly what I intended. Perhaps we should have picked a fight."

"No," Galvatron said flatly. "Bad timing. Ugly Gobot. Big gun. Bad idea." Prime silently nodded and no other words passed between them after the Autobot's optics faded. Galvatron stewed but refused to let the situation anger him. Reaction served no purpose. He thought, however, irritating and annoying Swindle **might** produce results. The punk would open the door if Galvatron and Prime made enough noise. They might not get free, but it could be . . . entertaining.

"Prime, how long have you been dysfunctional?"

The Autobot leader stirred. "What?"

"There's a word the Earthlings use . . . illness? Yes. How long have you been ill?"

Prime shook his head in silent denial.

"You concern me," Galvatron firmly pressed. "You're tired; languishing. Don't think I have not noticed. I may be a bad boy, but I'm not stupid."

"No. You're not." Prime agreed. He struggled to decide whether or not to tell Galvatron **everything**. Decepticons despised weakness and Prime tried to keep that in mind. He finally decided Galvatron did not need to know everything. "I've been diagnosed with Zatra-Tatlic." That was hard to admit and Prime worried about Galvatron's reaction. But he continued, "There's no known cure. At least, that we've found."

Galvatron nodded. "Zatra Tatlic." he said it slowly as though it were a magic spell. "Astrotrain and Ramjet caught it from drinking contaminated energon. They left the base without permission, later saying they needed a holiday. They came back, sick as a Jerneesium worm." Galvatron laughed softly. "We searched thirteen systems, twenty planets and tolerated 173 doctors before finding someone who knew something about it." Galvatron mused more to himself, "Never realized Decepticons could be so pathetic. The medics constantly complained about their behavior.

The Decepticon frowned, sighing once. The air grew stale with silence and Prime edged toward shut down when Galvatron grunted.

"You know, Prime, I used to think we were invulnerable to such things as disease or invading powers or politics. I believed we were the ultimate in the universe. But now . . . what arrogance. Such a waste."

"I know the feeling." The Autobot leader stared forward in the dark. If they could short-circuit the energon lock holding them hostage-and do so quietly-they could also recalibrate the lock into a weapon-

BANG!

Galvatron slammed his head against the wall.

Prime gazed at him emotionless.

Galvatron grinned. BANG! BANG! BANG!

"You'll get brain tumors doing that," the Autobot warned factiously.

"**Hey**!!" came Swindle's muffled voice from the deck, "**knock it off**!"

It only egged Galvatron on. He banged his head yet again before bursting into song: "**I'm so bored**!"

Prime stared at him, pretending to be annoyed. "You cannot be serious."

"**I'm BORED**!" Galvatron sang again.

"Stop singing. You're not good at it."

"BORED! I lost my commission. My dogbot died. My quarters are blown and I cried: I'm bored!!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"**KNOCK IT OFF IN THERE**!!"

Galvatron sat forward. "COME IN HERE, SWINDLE AND **MAKE ME**!" He laughed maniacally. "Come along, Optimus! You can't sing, either! **BORED**!"

Prime smirked and added his own musical tagline: "**he's so bored**."

**"Bored!"** Galvatron sang louder. **"I lost my commission. My life is through. My best friend keeled over and the rent is due. And I'm BORED!" **

**"Bored!"** Prime chirped.

**"I'm so bored!" **

**"He's bored!" **

**"BOR-" **

The storage door flew open and Swindle stood brazen with fury. "SHUDDUP!! I'M GONNA PLASTER THE TWO A' YOU-"

Swindle was a great con artist and a hell of a car salesman. But battle tactics wasn't one of his stronger areas. In other words: Swindle wasn't very bright.

Nor did he see Galvatron leap until it was far too late.

The former Decepticon leader leapt like a cricket and bounced on the little two-faced punk like a ton of wrought iron girders.

Swindle squeaked as Galvatron drew back his arm for a sure-fired punch guaranteed to rearrange the Combaticon's entire face in a single move.

It would have really hurt-

SWAH-BOOOZH!!!

The trading vessel toppled on its port, tossing all crew members, captives, supplies and whatnot against the nearest bulkhead. Galvatron fell away from Swindle. Swindle experienced less than 4.999902 seconds of relief before the ship's automatic gyro condensers rebalanced gravity.

The Combaticon landed on the former Decepticon leader.

Painter's whining voice patronized Swindle over the intercom. "We've been hit, Swindle! I only know how to steer the ship. I don't know how to fix it!"

Swindle stared into Galvatron's bright red optics and braced for pain.

**WHA-KRAK! **

Swindle's little body made a brand new entranced the storage compartment. He laid close to the deck, slumped and light-headed. Painter glanced at the Combaticon, not seeing the larger ship approaching. "Swindle! Will you stop messing around? I can't-"

**KREEE-AAAAASSSH! **

Several armor-plated invaders smashed through the transparent titanium glass shield. Painter, kicked senseless in the chest, flew backward and landed nearby Cyclonus. Five uniformed alien guardsmen boarded Painter's vessel. Their hoofed feet clanked along the metal flooring and they reported their positions in short, huffing words. Three transorganic dog-like beasts follow in, sniffing and snarling. Painter came to and just barely dodged laser fire. He gathered his wits and transformed into an anti-grav cycle. He revved forward and shot a hoofed alien in the leg, but missed two others.

The noise brought Swindle around and he coughed and stood while two guardsmen started plundering the ship. "Hey! Ya coulda just ASKED! I would've invited you!"

Galvatron ripped off part of the storage compartment's door jamb as Prime ran for Cyclonus.

Galvatron plowed through two aliens like a wrestler in a handicapped match.

One shot him in the arm, but Galvatron only grinned. He smacked the guardsman, tossing the creature across the bridge and would have done the same to the other had two hounds not jumped him. They snapped at his face and locked one arm between their jaws.

Prime called his weapon from subspace and shot the two beasts just before another guard aimed a shot at the Autobot. Prime dropped his rifle and held his hands up. He should have known better.

Swindle did not. Or if he did, he did not care. He swept up a fallen guard's ion rifle and shot at three aliens. But all Swindle succeeded doing was punching holes in the bulkhead.

Two guards leapt for the punk and Swindle squeaked.

**"BLENTAT!"** a female voice commanded. Everyone froze. A female something stepped from her ship's boarding chute into Swindle's vessel. Wearing scant armor like Rusti's, she looked tough enough to break every one of their bodies-even Galvatron's.

And that's why he stared blankly.

"North, Korone. Lotoov noomala ar armon. Benam Transformers. And dispose of the yellow-colored can opener."

"HEY!" Swindle protested in koine trader's language, "You have no right to abduct what I've taken!"

Prime half-lifted Cyclonus. "I think she's a law-enforcement officer, Swindle."

"This doesn't concern you, Prime," the con artist snapped back. "Now see here, you two-bit broad, none o' this ain't non a yer business!"

One guard swung the butt of his weapon in Swindle's face. "NEVER address the Voog D'Draph in such a manner, **slaum**! Or next time I'll scrape your face off and shove you up the ship's exhaust manifold!"

Galvatron cast him a slow sneer. "That's right, Swindle. Play nice. After all, you have Death Crystals."

**"WHAT?!"** Swindle could barely control his rage.

"Oh!" the female Voog D'Draph sang. "Death Crystals, too, is it? Seems your merchandise' can't keep its mouth shut. You are under arrest for illegal interstellar travel without a license, with a damaged vessel and for avoiding law-enforcement and resisting arrest." She turned away as her minions regained their feet. "Rugarran, bring the robots aboard. We will tow this hunk of organic waste back to Monicus; to Lord Ry's court."

* * *

All the robots, including the GoBot, were shackled and arranged within the constable's ship while Swindle's own vessel was ransacked. Galvatron wore a smug expression the whole time, enjoying Swindle's silent pout. 

The Voog D'Draph, her entourage of police, dogs and robotic captives, landed on the lighter side of Monicus. They dragged the Transformers through the unkempt streets of a small shambled city. Crumbling buildings and aliens wearing rags met them along the way. There were no automobiles to speak of, and graffiti colored building walls and sign posts.

Swindle greeted the bitter cold air with a grin. "Nice place. Needs a bit a' sunshine, though. I'll bet racketeering is as legal here as prostitution in Nevada. Hey! I wonder if it's possible t' git a license t' set up an extra-planetary operation. Get on the Net 'nd set up a search engine that offers numbers & addresses of rich, senile old ladies and little kids with rich parents."

Prime longed to find a universal remote control so he could use the mute button on Swindle. "Doubtful, Swindle. Even Monicus has some rules."

"F.Y.I., Prime. Monicus don't have law enforcement. It don't got a government. It don't got no cops. Free an' clear. A real paradise."

Galvatron glared at Swindle behind him. "Only if you're a filthy sleaze working for a crime boss, Swindle."

Swindle launched into a new dissertation on the benefits of working for a crime boss.

Ignoring the punk, Optimus Prime kept a watchful optic on Cyclonus. His non-functioning form slumped over the shoulder of the nearest guard. Cyclonus did not move and Swindle's mouth would not quit moving.

* * *

They came to a white-washed building fringed with close-cropped ground cover dotted by tiny purple and white flowers. Old weather-worn and bullet-ridden doors opened for the group and they entered a musty room with stale air and mold-caked flooring. Galvatron treaded lightly, fearful of the old floor boards that groaned under their weight. 

Prime cared less. A broken flooring was possible opportunity for distraction and an attempt of escape. But it was opportunity that did not come. And he worried for Cyclonus.

The Voog D'Draph and two of her personnel pushed a swinging wall on one end, forcing the other side open.

The wall reluctantly gave up its secret and permitted the entourage down a short, well-lit hall and into a cramped chamber. From there, they descended one after another, scimitar between Prime, Galvatron and Swindle. Several flights of steep, slippery stairs later, they progressed through a poorly-lit, rocky tunnel inhabited by hundreds of slimy winged fish. One landed on Painter who freaked and danced about until one of the hounds bit his back legs.

A set of huge doors embossed in gold and silver yawned before the group. They opened slowly and the scimitar snapped and nipped the robots into a large room with a finely polished floor. The expanse of luxurious tapestries swung along the walls in graceful curves. Expensive artwork sprawled the walls and ceiling. Rolls of thick, clean carpet bordered the back half of the room. Several aliens of differing species sat upon cushions or comfortable chairs.

The central figure was the most richly dressed. He bore a crown of wood studded with opals and diamonds. Fine gold and white silk draped about his lank yellow frame and several gold and titanium stud earrings decorated his ears from tip to lobe. Golden hair fluffed and feathered from about his crown but did not touch his shoulder line.

Two Ormoran females, graced with fine blue skin and rich tattoos danced for the group. The company of robots were forced to their knees. Cyclonus was laid next to Painter until the dance ended. As the crowned male stood, a small robotic transport slipped from round the throne and floated before Ry. He stepped up and it carried the crime lord down the long strip of carpet. His eyes glued to one dancer as he spoke: "Voog D'Draph, why do you soil my court with machines?"

He passed the dancers except for a second lustful glance to the taller of the two. He backed up and grabbed her into his arms, kissing her as though pouring his entire essence into her mouth.

His 'court' pretended not to notice finding other things of interest or striking up nonsensical conversation.

The other dancer set her wide dark eyes on Prime but kept her expression impassive.

Ry released the tall dancer and she retreated to his seat while he approached the Voog D'Draph. He acted as though nothing happened and scrutinized Painter and Swindle with a glint of dislike twitching at the corner of his mouth.

The Voog D'Draph politely bowed, arms crossing her chest. "We have reasons to believe the Decepticon here has a collection of death crystals in his possession, Lord Ry."

"Is that so?" he sang. "Death crystals are contraband, my friend." He gazed at Galvatron who only grinned maliciously.

"Erm, no, my lord. The short yellow one."

Ry shot her a cross look and went to Swindle. "On this, you sludge-sucking slaum. Let's out with it."

"Hey, it was just a rumor, Your Upness. You know: a lie. And it was HIS fault." Swindle pointed back to Galvatron.

So Lord Ry returned to Galvatron. "So?"

"He has them. Swindle is, after all, a professional smuggler and he likes bright sparkly objects."

Ry crossed his arms over his flat chest. "I don't like games."

"GALVATRON! YOU EXCREMENT-WIPE! LIAR! Tell them he's lying, Painter!!"

"Uh-"

"You forget," Galvatron added smoothly, "Swindle is a con-artist. He might be a opportunistic aft, but he's not a complete idiot." And Galvatron signaled for Ry to lean closer so he could whisper.

"Ah. Ah-huh. Oh. Is that so?" And then Ry scrunched his face. "That's disgusting!"

Satisfaction spread over Galvatron's face. "He's a Combaticon. They're all disgusting."

Swindle launched into a series of excuses and lines' while Prime stared at Lord Ry's personal transport. There was something about it that bothered him. He tried to look away, but his optics kept drifting back. Somehow he KNEW the robotic transport was alive, but unable to communicate.

NAME! NAME! He told himself, what is your name??

Swindle kicked Cyclonus: "ENOUGH!!" He pointed at Ry, "the fact here izzat these two losers 'r trying ta soften ya up! Galvatron there is a renegade, excommunicated by the Decepticons. There's probably a price on his head. That's gotta be worth something."

Prime clenched his fists. He wanted to leap-attack the punk but did dared not move. "Swindle, if you touch Cyclonus one more time I will kick your ass."

Galvatron smiled. He'd love to see that.

Lord Ry ignored the dispute. "The fact this . . . 'Galvatron' is a renegade does not credit his worth for anything, slaum. I am disinterested. Decepticons excommunicate each other all the time. Everyone knows that. Now, the crystals-"

"FERGET THE STINKIN' CRYSTALS!" Swindle shouted louder than he ever had in his life. "Look, ya got a good thing here. Aside this hunk a junk-"

And here Swindle kicked Cyclonus again-

He did not know Prime could be so pissed.

He did not know Prime could move so fast.

He did not know Prime could kick so hard.

And once again Swindle flew through the air and crashed against the wall with a satisfying crunch. The wall crumbled about him.

Lord Ry ordered the robots be restrained. But Prime figured between he and Galvatron, they could fight their way out.

Optimus kicked one thug then a dog then another guard and narrowly missed getting his backside burned. Galvatron followed suit with a couple of bodies flying one way then the other. Another pair of flunkies and two more scimitars raced into the hall to assist their comrades. One rugaaran guard shot at the former Decepticon leader, but missed when Galvatron leapt clear of the bullet's flight path.

One shot acid pellets into the fray, hitting one of his own buddies and nicking Swindle in the leg. Another rugaaran squealed like a wild boar when Prime used him as a body shield.

"ENOUGH!!" Ry called. But all he got in response was a pile of three more bodies. "I SAID ENOUGH!!" He about screamed.

At that point, the flunky fighting with Galvatron snorted disgusting yellow-green slime. His eyes flared yellow-hot and Galvatron took a cautious step back. The rugaarn before him morphed into a chunky, thick-skinned monster. Spikes lined down his back as it extended into a huge thick tail. Hoofs stretched into powerful claws and the chest expanded to greater proportions. Galvatron realized these things were genetically designed to handle combat either with 'squishies' or robots. The Decepticon took another cautious step back and bumped into someone. He glanced over his shoulder and found Prime there behind him.

"Did you start this?"

"Uh . . ." A strong metal staff undercut his legs and the Autobot fell face-down. Galvatron joined him a second later and Prime cringed when a vibro-axe sunk deep into the floor just precious micrometers from his face.

Lord Ry growled. "Preposterous! In my own court!! Expire their cores and platter me their heads!"

The Voog D'Draph pinned Swindle's miserable form under her powerful foot.

She poised her rifle against the punk's neck. "Forgive my speaking, Lord Ry. But I am impressed with how the two larger Transformers fight."

"She's right," Swindle squeaked. "They put up a fairly decent fight. Not the greatest, perhaps, but decent. How about a fight in the arena? Eh? Nothin' like entertaining other guests and maybe a few rivals. Yer bound to get a chuckle or two out of it. I can be yer agent."

"I tire of your mouth. Slaum. SHUT IT!"

The one blue dancer sitting at Ry's throne crawled along the floor like an animal then climbed up the boss' body in a disgusting sexual manner. She licked his neck and whispered in his ear before nibbling at the metal studs encrusted along the outer edges. Lord Ry grinned, "Well, that may have merit," he told the female. Then he pointed to Cyclonus, "Yet that one, the small dark over there, must be fixed. No injured entries to the arena permitted."

Satisfied his court was secure, the crime boss circled Prime and Galvatron. "Yes. This contains entertainment value. Potential wager; potential double my earnings." He paused, staring into Galvatron's optics as though entranced. "That is so, small, yellow sleaze ball. But they'd better win. Otherwise, the deal cancels." he sneered at Swindle, "You will be dismantled and your head will . . . " he glanced about and spotted his wall-length aquarium. ". . . serve to regulate my fish tank at the taproom."

* * *

Three rugaaran chained Prime's and Galvatron's hands in front with energo-cuffs and locked them in a holding cell while Ry's staff repaired Cyclonus for the arena. Galvatron paced, bouncing his bound hands in front. His optics searched fruitlessly for some way of escape. But the circular cell they sat in was perfectly smooth and rounded at the ceiling. 

Prime sat against the wall and tested the energo-cuffs for weakness. They were not going to give and he resigned to recovering. That bit of effort taxed him and while he really wanted to shut down, he dared do no such thing. But necessity for rest called him from afar and bit by bit the Autobot leader drifted through shadows and abstracted memories until an image of Rodimus focused clear but darkly.

Roddi lay face down as if overcome by despair, drowning in the guilt of sin and evil dreams.

Like two mirrors facing one another, Optimus Prime felt and reflected the same standpoints: There was indeed little to no hope. They lost both Cybertron and Earth. The Quintessons have won not once, but countless times. They were now refugees.

Yet, Prime considered, both Autobot leaders were still alive. They still had a responsibility to uphold. They needed to keep fighting in spite of the odds, in spite of the statistics.

In spite of Primus himself.

Why?

At first Optimus Prime could not answer that. It was a hard question. Why indeed? Why **bother**? Optimus Prime could not turn to the god of Cybertron. Primus had turned his back on his own. Just considering that fact hurt more than any punishment dealt him by Decepticon hand. They were a species of people now orphaned. Why should they bother to fight for survival if the odds are in favor of the Quintessons?

Optimus Prime surmised the answer would have to be personal rather than universal and because of that, he could not give Rodimus an answer. Roddi would have to find his own solutions.

Then Optimus berated himself for his defeatist attitude. What would Rusti say to all this? He could not give up yet; not until he got back to her. She crawled over his desk and picked up a pointer. He told her a thousand times not to play with the pointers.

She banged it on a digipad, breaking the-

Prime's optics snapped on. Galvatron banged his forehead once against the smooth wall. "Didn't move fast enough."

"Neither did I." Prime frowned. He crossed his legs and bowed over. "Rusti's going to kill me."

Galvatron did not move from the wall. "They'll help this 'Rusty' you speak of. I'll just watch."

"Thanks."

"It was, however, nice to see Swindle get his share of pain. Better yet that YOU picked the fight."

"The fight was between me and the Combaticon, Galvatron. Everyone else simply chose to get involved."

Galvatron settled across the Autobot, elbows on his raised knees. "There's no shame in starting a barroom brawl, Prime; as long as you finish it."

"It makes me a bad example." Prime countered.

"You carry a heavy responsibility. You tuck them in bed at night, wipe their filters and bandage their scrapes. But even you can't be perfect all the time."

"I need to make sure I get back to Rusti in one piece."

"Obsessive." Galvatron shook his head. "Must you always fret over how others perceive you?"

"Rusti's . . . important."

"Pathetic. Who is this 'Rusty'?"

"Spike Witwicky's granddaughter."

Galvatron fell silent for a long moment. "Not . . . the **Earthling**. Not . . ."

"He has three grandchildren now, Galvatron. His son, Daniel-"

"I remember Daniel. But what is your obsessive concern about **her**? Why's she so important?"

"I am not obsessed."

That earned him a sharp smile from the Decepticon. "You have this . . . **thing** about flesh creatures, about alien life forms, Prime. You have an annoying habit of adopting the pitiful, the weak and the miserable."

"Yes. So which one are you?"

Galvatron opened his mouth to retort but could think of nothing before the electric field was downed and the door opened. The Decepticon jumped to his feet but did not move. The dancer that stared at Prime earlier stepped in, bearing what Galvatron recognized as a Cepheus High Shot .2917. And the weapon was set to obliterate. Few laser weapons could boast of destroying robots in a single shot; this was one of them.

Oddly enough, Lord Ry's robotic personal transport followed the dancer in. On its platform rested two small energon cubes. The dancer kept a nervous finger on the trigger. She glanced out the door, her large blue eyes darted left to right.

"He went and said you'd not attack. No attack. Just speak. Can you hear my words?"

"Yes," Prime answered her broken trade language.

"He went and said he gives you energon. He-"

"Who is 'he'?" Galvatron stared hard.

"He-" she nodded toward the transport. "He knows-Brawn."

Prime about choked. "Brawn?!"

The robotic transport drifted closer and the dancer lowered her weapon. They said I am Tegan. I am Tegan from Omar. I am alone. Brawn talks, though. I hear him."

Prime and Galvatron stared at her. But it was Galvatron who was more impressed. "You have telemechanics."

She nodded. "My brother was better. But they shot him bad when I would not wish to dance. Now I dance. Brawn . . ."

Prime's spark ached for her. Tegan was a victim of abduction and enslavement-a practice used by many alien cultures. He guessed she was very young by her own racial standards. The Autobot leader hoped they could escape and take her and Brawn with them.

Galvatron glanced from the young dancer to the robot calling itself Brawn. "Erm, this unit . . . the same . . . not **Autobot** Brawn. Not possible. He's terminated."

The transport whirred and clicked unintelligibly even to Prime and Galvatron. But Tegan seemed to know exactly what it said. "Yes. They took him from space. He floated. They liked the metal and rearranged it."

Brawn was buried alive in the mausoleum. He was alive, but unable to communicate. Alive, but dysfunctional. Alive, but powerless. "It wasn't anyone's fault." Prime said sadly. "Everything happened so fast, the Autobots had almost no time to bury the deceased. I am so sorry, Brawn."

The transport floated closer to Prime and the Autobot leader laid his hand on Brawn's right corner port. When he removed his hand, blue hand prints remained.

Tegan and Galvatron stared in surprise.

"Not well." Tegan mourned.

Prime clenched his hand. "No."

Distant voices from the corridor caught everyone's attention. Tegan gasped.

"Must leave! Here!" she gave a small cube of energon each to Prime and Galvatron.

"Wait!" Prime called. "When can we talk again?"

She peeked round the closing cell door. "We will come to you."

The door closed and the cell fell silent.

Galvatron downed his energon in three great gulps while Prime thoughtfully drank his. He wanted to rescue Brawn and somehow hoped time would present better opportunity.

"Stuff tastes kinda funny." Galvatron complained with a scowl.

"Probably just old, might have lead in it." Optimus casually answered.

The door to their cell sung open. Two heavily armored rugaaran hauled them into the open none too kindly. They dragged Prime and Galvatron to a train of three high-priced, classy anti-grav transport vehicles.

Lord Ry and a few of his staff floated on the first two vehicles that accommodated all of them more than comfortably. They sat on cushions and pillows while a small table overladen with drink and food squatted between them. In the first vehicle, Tegan and her dancing partner fondled over Ry while his hands wandered about the 'sensitive areas' of their shapely bodies.

"Ready, Lord Ry." one guard reported as Galvatron and Prime sat between Cyclonus and Swindle. Galvatron gave Swindle several dirty looks. Prime silently stared at Cyclonus who nodded once, indicating he was fine.

"Off we are, then!" Ry declared.

* * *

They surfed through ruins of buildings and shambled neighborhoods. For all the money that passed through the asteroid world of Monicus, not one cent was spared to improve living conditions of the poor and enslaved. And at this time of night, people skittered from building to building in fear. Gangsters owned the town and no sane being dared tread sidewalks at night. They traveled northward. Not more than a few miles beyond, glittering bright lights welcomed them to the pit of greed, slavery and death. 

Galvatron suddenly erupted in a fit of laughter, drawing all eyes and optics to him. "Oh Primus, I gotta tell ya this one! You know Scourge . . . such a s-s-sissy! He's supposed to be this fearless warrior, great in battle and mighty in strength. Ata meeting we had, there was a glitch mouse scampering 'cross the floor. Course, the place we were at was 'fested with those damnedable things. But PRIMUS never saw the like! That moron," Galvatron broke into laughter again then settled enough to finish his story, "that moron actually got up on the table and hahahahaha!! Tapped about like a damned puppet, SCREAMING! HE WAS SCREAMING BECAUSE HE SAW A G'THACKING GLITCH MOUSE!" Galvatron laughed and laughed as the image of Scourge trouncing all over the conference table replayed in his mind.

The humor of the moment totally escaped his audience, however.

They entered a brightly-lit town not unlike the one Smokescreen visited with the head hunter, Devcon and Sleeezardo, his Scutzoid partner. Obscene advertisement blared at the optics in dazzling colors and huge letters. Businesses promising temporary happiness held their doors open for people to peek in and spend money. Street walkers whistled and howled at Lord Ry's anti-grav transport. He ignored them, however, his lips and legs locked about the body of his favorite dancer.

Several city blocks later the transports stopped before a giant, ritzy building studded in lights and bright colors. Great double-paned windows displayed dancers in barely-clad bodies and glitter.

The rugaaran private army disembarked from the second transport. They dragged Prime, Galvatron and Cyclonus off and stood them near the wall under gunpoint. Swindle and Painter jumped out and touched the sidewalk. Swindle eyed the anti-grav transport with the expression of a would-be car thief. Painter stared as Ry and the dancer made disgusting noises while they fell deeper into the cushions of his personal transport. Everyone else discreetly left the anti-grav and found other things of interest while the crime boss finished business' with his employee.

Painter leaned closer to Swindle. "Late to the wedding, Swindle. My sister will kill me."

Annoyed Swindle gave him a sharp look. "We'll be lucky if you get that far, Painter. She may hafta take a number."

"Huh?" but Painter never got an answer.

Tegan straightened her clothes and extracted a small make-up kit from subspace. She touched up her blue face and rearranged her dark hair. She once again set her large dark eyes on Optimus Prime. With a cautious glace back at the transport, she slipped to Prime's side making physical contact.

Again his color wiped off, inking her hand in deep red. For an instant, Prime thought she tried to take something from him, but he did not know what or why. Then he realized she was reading him much the same way Rusti was able to read mechanical devices. "Too truly sorry for your suffering. You have lost parts of your soul. Who did this? Who tore you apart?" her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Prime cast his gaze at her. She flushed, her cheeks darkening to a lovelier shade of blue.

Optimus did not know how to answer. Her words, spoken so true, bit him deeply.

Her eyes wilted into sadness and she backed away.

Ry and his playmate rose, rearranged their clothes and left the transport. Lord Ry and his groupies leisurely made their entrance to the building followed by his private security flunkies, folding around the Transformers, the Gobot and finally the Autobot servant bringing up the backside.

The building's interior reminded Prime of the classiest taprooms on Depnaar and Koi. Semi-precious gemstone chandeliers dangled from the ceiling shed soft light. Panel lights illuminated the walls and fine carpeting kept the noise to a pleasant level. The lobby was populated by creatures of all kinds, both large and small. Now and again a robot made its way across, catching a glimpse at Prime and Galvatron. But the Decepticon started avoiding optical contact. Guilt shadowed his face.

Ry led his entourage upstairs to a private area. They entered a spacious room with everything from a refreshment center to a pool table (or Monicus' equivalent). Several chairs and cushions lined the walls or gathered round a small table. A huge desk swept to the right side of the room, facing outward from a diagonal direction and next to that stood a large aquarium with a variety of colorful alien fish and other odd creatures. Swindle took a seat without being asked. "Quite the pad ya got here, Ry. Betchya entertain a lot of guests here, eh? Sorta reminds me of Celsius Pi. He was a serious sleaze but had great taste in furnishings. I made the mistake a' playing jacks with him. Quite the cheat, but he taught me a couple of hands I hadn't thoughta."

Lord Ry, however, was not amused. The glow of love-making that softened his features faded and he was once again his usual self. "There are of us who require proof of class. Now mind to remove your metallic ass from the furniture. Let's to business on hand."

"Sheesh. Sorry." Swindle took a glance at Painter and the two followed Ry to his handsome desk overlaid in fine silver, trimmed with bronze. Ry sat behind it while his groupies and flunkies found for themselves either a chair, a cushion or a wall to lean against. Prime, Galvatron and Cyclonus stood in the center of the room.

"Now," Ry began, "just who and where to commence?"

Swindle leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Well, like I was sayin', we got somtin' of a bounty here. I say we start with yer contacts. Go from there."

"I see." Ry frowned and with the press of a button activated a small computer. He punched in a few command keys then leaned back in his swivel chair.

YOU CALLED, MY LORD?

Prime glanced at Galvatron when the computer's female voice rang with a sexually alluring tone. It was all Cyclonus could do to keep a straight face.

"Yes. Access accounts and notations and regard bounty on any Transformers."

Galvatron watched as the room wobbled around him. Faces stretched either long or wide. The wall to his right raced back, further and further away. It was funny. He didn't know walls could do things like that on their own. He numbly shook his head as it fogged with incomplete thoughts. His optics dimmed lazily and he turned his attention to Swindle . . . the 'sinister Swinster'. Heh!

Oh, watch here as Swindle's form started to stretch upward. Uuuuuuuuuupp . . . to the ceiling. Oooh, that's funny. Lookit, the dumb scum's middle was shrinking. Just like his cranial chamber's capacity.

Watch his feet go flatter.

Too bad.

Galvatron outwardly smirked.

Prime shot him a glance and noticed how the Decepticon's chassis started radiating slightly higher temperatures.

"COMPLETED," the computer declared. "ZORTH PRIKNELL. BOUNTY ON DECEPTICON LEADER GALVATRON. BOUNTY ON DECEPTICON COMBATICON SWINDLE. BOUNTY ON AUTOBOT CITY COMMANDER ULTRA MAGNUS. BOUNTY ON DECEPTICON SUB-COMMANDER SCOURGE. BOUNTY ON-"

"Thanking you, computer. Enough."

Prime suppressed a smirk and stared at the floor, struggling to keep himself composed.

Swindle seemed a bit nervous. He chuckled. "Looks like Zorth Priknell has a chip on his shoulder for everybody."

"Yyyesss. Apparent to the fact, is it, not??" Ry's voice now sounded as slick as a roboto-snake ready for the kill. He stood, his lanky form towered over the Decepticon. "So confess, clankety robotic friend, what crime trespassed Zorth, eh?"

Again Swindle chuckled nervously. "Well, let's just say that . . . that deal didn't go through."

"Ah-hu. And suspicions of debits, right?"

"Well, not **directly**. I mean, by most definitions, possibly, but the exchange . . . there was a bit of misunderstanding between us and, well, we never got back into contact."

Ry clicked his tongue, feigning pity. "Tragic situation! Zorth is my better patrons. Now to consider, there exists a solution perfection, Swindle."

Swindle did not sound as enthused as his words: "really? Does that mean we have a better deal than what I proposed regarding the three here? I mean, after all, it took some doing to procure them-"

Optimus did not like how Ry smiled. The crime lord folded his hands and straightened his arms in front. "To truth, Swindle, you are ripe of amusement." At those last words, the Rugaaran stomped forward and pointed all their barrels at the con artist.

"Oh, look!" Galvatron blurted, "Cepheus High Shots .2917's . . . Spec-tac-ular! Can I have one?"

Prime lost all expression. His optics slightly darkened as he stared at his companion. "Spectacular?"

Everyone else in the room lost their expressions, too. Ry looked disgusted at Galvatron but his displeasure did not faze the former leader. Galvatron's optics stayed glued to the weapons, grinning like a greedy little kid in a toy store.

Ry frowned and snapped toward his office door. "Come!" he ordered. Zorth waits!"

They hustled downstairs; two scimitar, the captives, Ry, his groupies and guards. Prime mused how they all resembled some awkward dark parade, twirling down the spiral stairway. Upon landing, they padded through a short dim hallway and between a set of heavy double doors opened by a pair of rugged bouncers. With a signal, Ry ordered the party to wait near the bar. He pressed toward a small table burdened by a giant bloated alien with translucent scaly skin. The mountainous blob lifted one of four arms and chugged a barrel of steaming liquid. The alien turned to Ry and grinned in greeting, displaying several rows of pointy teeth. He spoke but the party stood too far to hear the conversation.

The monster's grin gaped viciously when Ry pointed to Swindle. Zorth lifted another arm and wiggled four fat fingers in greeting. Then he flipped Swindle the bird, bouncing it up and down.

Galvatron hooted in laughter and received several growls from the rugaaran. Prime leaned cautiously toward the Decepticon to whisper, "Galvatron, what is the MATTER with you?"

The Decepticon merely grinned again, broader and stupider than Prime ever remembered seeing. "Yer my **PAL**, Prime!" He practically sang it and the flunkies around them stared in surprise. "You n Cyclonus . . . Primus, I love you guys!"

"Oh no." Optimus got that 'sinking feeling.'

"Oh don't be upset!" the Decepticon's voice rose a bit louder, "I won't tell anybo-anybody. Really. Cept maybe that lady that scraped me off that rock. Gods what a bad trip."

Swindle just could not keep his trap shut: "well, whaddya know? Ol' Galvatron's got sugar in his tank! He's tipped at the sides! What'd you give him, Prime?"

"I did nothing, Swindle. So, SHUT. UP."

Ry signaled his flunkies and the whole group approached. Zorth's huge form slumped tipping the table's edge with his bulk. He spoke with a language Prime could not grasp.

The Autobot leader scanned the barroom, finding exits, windows and a fair number of alien customers. They had to escape before the deal between Zorth and Ry was sealed. A distraction would be handy, but Galvatron's poor condition might make for a difficult escape.

However, if Optimus was correct, a good fight could bring Galvatron to his senses, burning off the tainted energon. There was one other aspect Prime had to count: Brawn and Tegan.

While he kept glancing around, Prime watched three rugaaran relax their guard; no one would try anything here; not in front of Ry's guests. Not more than three yards to Prime's right, volatile beverages loaded the service bar with everything from alcohol to hydrogen and radium. His scanners caught something else he had not expected: a weapon; a semi-solar .19. The 'sweet piece' was light-weight and apparently fully-charged. There were a number of customers, however and Prime did not know if he should risk starting a fight.

But with his hands bound as they were, it meant he'd have to find a way to disrupt the energon chain before doing another thing.

Galvatron stared at the ceiling, taking interest in the low-lying chandeliers. They were pretty, sparkling with little happy faces. A fountain of ten-weight energon, metal shards and lead crystals showered from the top of the left-side wall, cascading into a small indoor pond. The little sight tickled Galvatron; he thought he could even see a spark fairy dance in and out of the fountain.

Galvatron leaned in the fountain's direction and pursed his lips in a kiss, "Hey, little spark fairy," he sang in a whisper. "Don't be 'fraid, I won't hurt you. Come this way." He tried to mimic kisses with his lip components but couldn't quite make the sound.

He lost his balance, stumbling against his guard.

Turning to see what the Pitt Galvatron was doing, Prime spotted the fountain. That was the answer to their bondage problem.

Ry returned to the group, standing uncomfortably close to Prime. He signaled his favorite dancer to approach and laid an arm across her shoulders, his fingers itching over her breast. "Our, Lord Zorth pleases to address everyone to the arena cells and prepare all for the future tournament. Ladies and Boys, attend. Dinner is outside tonight."

Optimus kicked Ry so hard that when the crime boss flew, he knocked Zorth over. Zorth's great bulk bounced and rolled like a blob of rubber.

Following the Autobot's cue, Cyclonus gave three flunkies a powerful round-house kick, knocking weapons from their clutches. Swindle shouted and aimed a shot at the Decepticon. But Cyclonus easily avoided the line of fire and plunged into the Combaticon's middle. The two flew across several tables.

Galvatron's expression broadened from laughter to enthusiasm. "Ooh! A fight! Great idea, Prime!" He sprang and kicked the head of one flunky behind him. The gunner fell over, most likely dead. The other backed off, weapon in hand. Not a problem. The Decepticon tipped a table between them and the laser blackened its silvery surface. Galvatron ducked the next round of fire and rammed his head into the flunky's middle. They landed on the ground but even with bound hands, Galvatron was quicker to his feet. He dodged several shots from behind and landed at the fountain, held his wrists out and hoped his hands would not get shredded.

After plowing through three bodies himself, Prime joined him. The chains shorted with a few harmless sparks and the two, now free, ducked behind tables to escape more oncoming fire.

Optimus counted five shots (one from each assailant) before lifting the table and bowling them over.

Galvatron turned to his companion with the same ridiculous grin, "How much time do we have to fight before the law enforcement arrives?"

"There IS NO law enforcement on Monicus!" Prime answered back as Zorth roared to life. The behemoth beast yanked the end of the service bar from its roots and threw it at the two. Galvatron and Prime easily dodged but one of Ry's 'boys' didn't see the chunk coming his way. It scooped him up and sandwiched him against the fountain, frying the critter extra-crispy.

Optimus remembered the weapon behind the bar counter and measured the distance between himself and Zorth. The great bulky alien picked up a table, broke off the legs and threw it like a disc at Swindle.

Good distraction. Prime transformed and rammed head-on into Zorth, squishing the alien's great belly. The Autobot shifted back to robot form in mid-air, catapulted himself over the alien's blubber and into the backside of the bar.

Sure enough there was the semi-solar .19. Prime shot two then three punks including the one harassing Cyclonus. Ry's groupies and customers ducked and screamed from all sides of the room and someone tossed a chair in Prime's direction. Optimus dodged it and shielded his face as mirror fragments rained from the wall behind him. The potentially explosive liquids spilt and flooded the bar. Not good to hold a weapon when standing in such concoctions.

He cleared the bar as Ry rose from his lapse of consciousness.

Prime landed beside Galvatron and the two searched the room for Cyclonus.

"Show off." Galvatron whispered.

Prime smiled but did not bother to answer.

"NNNNYYYYYAAAGGHHH!!" Ry caterwauled in frustration but did not silence the noise of destruction. A flicker of light shot about his form and Prime and Galvatron watched in mute horror as the crime lord's size grew another twenty feet. His hair sparked with electricity and his eyes glared brilliant white. "ADEQUATE AMUSEMENT TODAY. CRUSHING MIGHT REMEDY ANNOYANCES!"

Prime and Galvatron darted in opposite directions when Ry's foot came crashing in their space. The floor crumbled under the pressure. Zorth backed against the entrance door as more aliens fled the scene.

Galvatron took cover behind a private booth. A hand landed on his shoulder strut and the Decepticn swung about for a punch. He froze when Cyclonus greeted him without expression.

"CY-CLO-NUS!!" and he grabbed his buddy and squeezed him hard. "I love you! You've always been so good to me! I've always been so mean to you!" He released his now-squished companion, but held his shoulders under tight fingers. "I hope you forgive me for all the times I was so mean! I . . . don't know what I'd done without you!" The Decepticon pouted like a whipped puppy.

Cyclonus kept his reaction to himself and handed Galvatron the rifle he acquired elsewhere.

"Oooh!" Galvatron's face brightened with delight. "Toy! Mine?"

"Yes, Galvatron. It is yours."

"TOY!" And again the ridiculous grin plastered across the Decepticon's face as he checked its charge. All around them the occupants either crowded to leave the room or fought one another in stupid drunk antics. Swindle struggled between two of Ry's rugaaran while another alien stole drinks from the bar tap.

Cyclonus was going to explain where and how he managed to acquire theirs and Prime's weapons, but decided not to confuse the drunk Decepticon with the details.

Galvatron leaned into his 'happy rifle' and tried to keep steady enough to shoot either the flunky or Swindle. Death to either idiot was suitable. Galvatron pulled the trigger and missed Swindle by mere micrometers. Swindle felt the shot's heat and screamed something incoherent just before his opponent delivered an incredible uppercut punch. The con artist went flying across the room and landed on a table of uninvolved aliens. Insulted, the three of them tipped the table and pummeled the Combaticon.

Meanwhile the one alien turned to Galvatron and stomped toward the laughing Decepticon.

Cyclonus slunk back, knowing all too well what was about to happen.

Galvatron stopped laughing and caught the beast's snapping tail, kicked the drunk with no result then realized his mistake. The double-jointed creature lifted Galvatron overhead and tossed him like pizza dough. The Decepticon crashed into three and four tables, upsetting chairs, drinks and two other little guys who rolled with the impact. They leapt to their feet, hauled out their own chunks of metal' and proceeded to shoot Galvatron. In this pulse-raging fight, the Decepticon was far from slow. He shot up, grabbed hold of the nearest chandelier and catapulted himself back to the alien.

The beast prepared to receive Galvatron's flying form and would have kicked Galvatron's head had the Decepticon not suddenly stopped in mid-air, floating and gloating. The alien lost his balance, flipped up on his back (crunch) and howled over his injured tail.

From his position in the air, Galvatron spotted Swindle and Painter scampering from hiding to hiding to escape the wrath of Ry. To the Pitt with Swindle and his pleasure-bot. The Decepticon leapt back into action, weapon fully charged and hungry for victims.

Ry peeked round this corner, under that table, looking for Optimus Prime. He took one step, then another. With short bursts from his finger Ry blew a table here, shattered a window over there.

Prime was never easily intimidated. He reworked the semi-solar as quickly as its delicate instruments permitted and changed the power flow output, disabled the safety gauge and mentally braced for intense pain.

One. Two. Three. And the Autobot swung from around a support pillar. "Ry!" he called. The super-boss turned his attention to the little Transformer and made one step. Prime fired the weapon. Not at Ry, but at the counter bar. The Pleiades semi-solar .19 shot a wide-field burst at a much greater force than the weapon was designed to handle in a single shot. All its power drained in one strike and Ry only had a fraction of a second to realize what Prime was doing. Optimus disappeared round the pillar just as the counter top exploded, taking with it the entire wall, everything made of glass, four people and the next room over.

The explosion was such that for a few blind seconds, Prime lost all audio and visual input. He remained still, straining to scan about. But the atmosphere, filled with chemicals from the bar, was so thick that it scrambled his sensors.

Great plan, Prime, he thought. Maybe next time you could take EVERYONE out.

Little by little the smoke and dust cleared and so did Prime's sensors. A shape knelt next to him and Optimus turned, greeting Galvatron optic to optic.

The Decepticon grinned most approvingly. "You know, Prime, if I had known you were this much fun, I would have called a truce a long time ago."

"Not funny." Prime growled. He took to his feet and shook his injured hand. He was very lucky the gun did not mangle it. The three Transformers treaded over glass, wood, metal and a few body parts. Ry lay sprawled along the floor, either dead or unconscious. Several people lay with serious or minor injuries but Optimus remained unrepentant.

Zorth groaned and sat up, rubbing his huge head.

Galvatron checked his weapon for ammo, finding it still half charged. Cyclonus handed Prime his old rifle and the Autobot murmured a thank-you though he held the weapon with his left hand. "I think we've done enough damage for today, Galvatron."

"Yes. I believe we have adequately left our mark here." Galvatron's voice lilted with enthusiasm. "But our business is not finished."

They turned in unison to Painter and an injured Swindle. It took a moment for Swindle to realize he and Painter were in danger. He forced himself up from the floor, rubbing an aching head then a right arm; his gyro-gun now absent. He saw the two approach and the punk held his hands aloft to defend himself from an onslaught. "Hey, guys, it's all been just a joke, ya know? Hehe, just . . . a joke . . ." his optics raised above Prime's and Galvatron's heads and Prime crossed his arms.

"Swindle, I've decided to raise the number of pieces from eight to ten."

"Don't think you'll get that chance!" Swindle ducked and taking his cue, so did Prime and Galvatron. They swung around uniformly, both delivering a powerful kick. Zorth oofed and bumbled backwards, a blobby ball rolling out of control until he crashed into a pile of bodies ad debris. He shook his blubbery head and growled, eyes dilating in anger.

Prime charged his weapon as Galvatron aimed and they shot Zorth dead-center.

The squishy alien whined with a gurgle before he half-blew, half crumbled to disgusting little pieces of fat. Galvatron, Prime and Cyclonus watched in horror as Zorth's remains took on animation, bouncing up and down like tiny children throwing a temper tantrum.

Seeing how Prime was momentarily distracted by the disturbing sight, Swindle and Painter started sneaking away. But neither of them got very far before Cyclonus side-stepped in front, his weapon impatient. Swindle was about to make a rude remark when a large hand gripped him round the backside of his neck and the next moment he found himself dangling like a monryan moon worm between two fingers. Prime's face plates came so close that Swindle could see the reflection of his optics on its silvery surface.

"Unfinished business, Swindle." Prime growled and for a moment, the con artist thought he saw a flicker of darkness in those bright blue visual receptors.

"Hey, how about let's not, and say we did, okay? Bygones be bygones."

Prime's voice dipped dangerously low. "I don't do bygones." The Autobot leader dragged his prize away, leaving his companions alone with the Gobot. Galvatron gave Painter a vicious, mischievous grin. If Transformers had teeth, Painter swore Galvatron's would be the largest and the cleanest.

* * *

Lord Ry rose from the darkness of sleep to find his world in ruins. His dance club/bar had a sizable hole where the explosion blew out the entire backside of the building. Bits, pieces and puddles of customers lay about the floor. His client, Zorth, also lay in fragments, now growing heads and legs of their own. 

Coming down to his more 'civilized' size, the crime boss gathered his tattered silks about him, took in the damage and tried to estimate the cost. The disaster wasn't expensive so much in monetary value as it was in reputation. He was humiliated by four measly Transformers. Chances were his clients would now think him weak and dubious in future dealings.

Ry carefully treaded the stairwell to his office and closed the tattered drapes to the shattered window overlooking what was left of the bar downstairs. He sat heavily in his broken chair and wished the aches and pains away. What he did not see was Swindle's head planted at the back of his aquarium, regulating the fish filters and air support.

As he returned home, Ry noticed a few . . . oddities: a signpost had a new pole-something that suspiciously resembled one of Swindle's arms. A drainage pipe to the right looked a bit like one of Swindle's legs.

A wire clamp held fast an electric cable; the camp looked like one of the Combaticon's own hands. A doorstop at the local gun shop looked more like a Transformer's foot.

Paint and relief work pressed outward from the wall of a nearby abandoned warehouse. Impressed upon its crumbling surface was the headless body of a Gobot and inscribed in English: GALVATRON WUZ HERE.

* * *

The Three companions were once again on their own, lost and without means of survival except for their own wits. And at the moment, Galvatron's was drowned in bad energon. Prime met back with Galvatron and Cyclonus just as Galvatron finished signing his 'handiwork'. But he staggered worse than before. 

"Op't'mus!! My good friend! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? What a slag hole this is to find you here- Oh, wait! I came with you, didn't I? Musta f'got." Galvatron smiled lopsidedly.

Prime stared, dubious. Only better energon could purge the poisons from Galvatron's systems. Without an ionizing agent, several of Galvatron's components could gum up and break down. "We must get out of the open and find better energon."

"How did this happen to begin with?" Cyclonus caught his friend as Galvatron lost his balance.

The former leader's optics flared with another hopeless grin and he patted Cyclonus thankfully. "Sucha good guy!"

"We were given tainted energon. I thought it was simply old, but apparently . . . " Prime's voice trailed. They needed to hide but his scanners, slowly disengaging on their own, found nothing.

Galvatron lurched in pain and he slipped out of Cyclonus' arms and into Prime's. Fortunately, Prime caught him chest-wise or what Galvatron vomited would have been all over the Autobot.

Cyclonus winced as thick grey matter expelled itself from Galvatron's system. Galvatron coughed, heaved and panted for fresh cool air. He heaved again but nothing came up.

"He'll be all right, right?" Prime asked Cyclonus.

But the Decepticon shook his head. "This is bad."

Prime held Galvatron tighter as the Decepticon vomited more clumps of grey matter into the street. Unfortunately, the Decepticon's weight strained Prime's back and injured hand. He winced. "Cyclonus, those ruins we came from south of town; they might be a better refuge than the city here.

"It's too long a distance, Prime. I suggest we merely find a hideout here where fuel sources are more easily acquired than the ruins."

Prime stumbled with Galvatron's weight. Both were weak but Galvatron's balance was undone.

"Wait," Prime called. "We cannot move. Not like this. Let's rest here a moment." he settled at the edge of the sidewalk, setting Galvatron against a wall. "I might have rations-"

Cyclonus laid a hand on Prime's arm in objection. "It's Autobot energon. It's not enough."

"It'll keep him on his feet."

"But not for very long." Cyclonus insisted. "Maybe half an Earth hour."

Galvatron wiped a bit of grey pasty residue from his face. His bent knees slid to the ground. " Ss allll riiight, Cyclonusss . . ." his voice cracked, "Sumthin's better n nuthin'." He took the three chips from Prime. They were very sweet and went down nice and cold. "Primus, you're a dangerous robot t' hang with, Prime. Kinda r'minds me a' Mindwipe. Creepy son a' ret'r rrrat. You know-you know he'd tastsst-tessst any-anything-I mean ANYTHING once? Ev'n ate one o' his stupid Headmaster's fingers. He'd . . . he'd off and write it in that . . . stupid book o' his an' -OH! But sometimes it was useful . . . till he'd regurgitate it. Freak." Galvatron's aching, fuzzy head cleared some. His innards ached and he fought shut down.

It was information Prime would rather have not known. Not that the Autobots did not have odd habits of their own (Cliffjumper collected bungee cords, Wheeljack once bought reams of aluminum foil and wallpapered his quarters with it.) But some information was too insignificant.

Cyclonus shook his head and joined the other two on the sidewalk, keeping an extra optic out for trouble. At the moment, the street remained still but sunrise was not far behind.

Galvatron sniggered, breaking the silence. "I member Shockwave ... dumb g'thack. He-he was oooh, he was weird, that one. I mean, I know that-that Shockwave wasn't, you know . . . NORMAL but P-RRIIIMUS! The THINGS he . . . and the sounds! He likes torture, you know. Maintenance bots always quivered when assigned to his quarters . . . Don't know, don't care to know."

Neither did Prime. His personal experience in Shockwave's torture chamber was a memory he always pushed far back into the corners of his mind. He assisted Cyclonus with Galvatron's weight and the three of them slowly staggered down the ally and round a corner. Galvatron's voice raised and lowered with more Decepticon gossip:

"Soundwave . . . n' those creepy dolls a' his. You know he had one a' everything fr'm some Voodoo . . . priestess in Alabama t' some Cabbage thing he picked up in Yugoslavia."

Prime remembered the findings discovered on the Nemesis sometime ago. Not only did they find thousands of dolls of every size, shape and assortment, but secret journals the Decepticon communications officer kept on everyone else around him. "Where did he get the masks, Galvatron?"

"Some . . . Aaaficannn . . . village n' the Congo." He shook his head. "Went there to watch some bizarre cannibalistic ritual r something. Uhh . . . Bombshell aaaand . . . Rumble . . . I don't remember. It was gruesome." Then it dawned on Galvatron: "Hey, how did you know about the masks?"

Cyclonus cut in: "Honestly, haven't we better things to consider than Soundwave's personal obsession?" He received silent stares from both and shook his head.

But Galvatron did fall quiet again. His optics dimmed in rest for just a few short moments. Prime forced himself to his feet and paced up and down the sidewalk. His hand ached and twitched with damaged connectors. He saw three aliens race across the street, their heads wrapped with business hats. Another alien, a female, drove across the way in a small vehicle.

The general public began to rouse from their nightly rest. Unlike Sheol, the smaller town of Zoar slept at night and rose to life in the day. It was advantageous but not for much longer. Weariness hit Prime. All the energy he spent at the club began to tax him mentally and physically. The Autobot leader returned to his companions and rechecked his laser rifle, waiting for Galvatron to realize they needed to move on. One thing Prime did not want to do was push Galvatron beyond his capacity.

"Times to go?" Galvatron slurred sleepily.

"Yes," Prime answered matter-of-fact as he crouched before his companion. "Daylight is approaching. I'm hoping we can find refuge before we're spotted."

Galvatron struggled to his feet and patted Prime's hand when the Autobot helped him up. "Cy-clonus ll protect us, Optimus! Won'tya, there . . . uhhh . . . uhhh . . . " the Decepticon turned to his faithful friend and just drew a blank. He received a small smile before the warrior examined the street up and down to determine the safest passage.

They found a secluded spot among several crumbling buildings. A river tumbled over filth and debris a few yards away. This was an old place, scarred by neglect, haunted by local gangs and weary with war. It did not matter; they were safe for the moment. Prime and Cyclonus lowered Galvatron into a corner inside an old airline hanger and glanced about.

Other than remnants of former occupants, the building stood dark and empty. Optimus hoped this was not gangster territory. The one thing he and Cyclonus did not need was another fight.

The Autobot settled to his knees to rest just a precious moment. But he pushed himself so as not to appear weak before his companions. Prime hoped to hold out long enough for them to find a ship and a way off Monicus but his hope was quickly fading.

"Optimus, you're overheated." Galvatron sounded a little more sane, but Prime did not know how long that would last.

The Autobot examined his injured hand and wished there was a way to get it treated. For now all he could do was quell the pain receptors and keep moving. "Cyclonus, call me if someone approaches. I'm going to find better energon for Galvatron. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No," Cyclonus argued, "I'll go. I can fly and I'm not as easily identified as you two."

Optimus knew he was in no condition to argue. His weary gaze locked with Cyclonus and he nodded in compliance. Prime settled against the wall near Galvatron as Cyclonus left the building, transformed and shot into the air.

An eerie silence fell between he and Galvatron who sat slumped in shut down. He seemed so peaceful there.

A small boxed shape pushed through the stone wall from subspace beside Prime and nudged the Autobot's arm.

"Shh." Prime warned weakly. "Do not wake Galvatron."

Roller wheeled his way forward and silently explored the hanger. Prime watched him trail about. Roller's small physique lit by light from the hanger windows above and disappeared between them.

Roller felt the Autobot leader's pain and submitted messages of encouragement. But the Autobot leader remained dour. He knew what was happening.

Roller paused before the hanger doorway at the far end. He took in readings of temperature and sound, of soil and atmosphere. He sensed decomposition five feet below the surface where an animal lay dead.

Prime watched Roller through a sleepy haze. He remembered and marveled how Roller remained unaffected by the Virus when it attacked several months ago. Could it be that Roller had acquired his own spark, separate from Optimus? Would he survive if Prime himself suddenly terminated?

Somehow Optimus believed that once he died, Roller would survive.

* * *

Quipper rolled along the ground, armless and naked. The fire of metal-devouring insects grew rich and fat on his broken and raped frame. They devoured him outside in, sinking further . . . he became a pitiful corpse, screaming for mercy, for sympathy, for release- 

"Prime."

Optimus jolted from shut down and stifled a scream of his own.

Quiet.

The Quintessons were gone.

Mars was gone; so was his office far away at Fort Max. Prime cringed with pain.

"Did not mean to startle you," Galvatron muttered.

Prime found Galvatron's red optics. The rest of the Decepticon disappeared into the hanger's darkness, save for the outlines of a weary smile. The Autobot shuddered from emotional overload.

"You were talking to yourself." Galvatron's voice came quiet, once again level-headed. "I was concerned you might have slipped into involuntary defrag and recall."

"A nightmare, Galvatron. One of many."

Galvatron watched his companion through the dark, tracing Prime's weary frame in the subtle light. He tried to scan the Autobot, but the tainted energon kept those systems from loading properly.

Damn.

"Where is Cyclonus?"

"He left to find better energon for you."

Galvatron smiled again before his optics spotted Roller making rounds through the hanger. The scout car did not seem to notice Galvatron's stare. It paused and took a reading before continuing his journey. It was difficult to believe the scout car was a part of the Autobot leader. Difficult, but amusing.

Roller bleeped twice and journeyed back to the corner. Galvatron turned to Prime and found him sleeping, or at least resting with optics dimmed off.

"Prime. Prime."

No answer.

"Optimus?" Galvatron reached for the Autobot and checked his electropulse.

Prime stirred to the touch of his palm and neck. Galvatron's cool hand roused him enough to stay alert a while. "I'm sorry, Galvatron. Must've slipped off."

The Decepticon's expression remained neutral. "A fine situation we're in: sitting targets."

Prime rolled his head left, staring at his companion. "Do you feel pathetic, Galvatron?"

Galvatron lowered his head just a bit. "Now that you mention it, Prime . . . "

"Hmph." The Autobot slumped further against the wall. "Don't worry. I'll tell them it's all my fault."

"Unconscious Autobots don't speak."

"Must you always be so matter-of-fact?"

Galvatron grinned. "Force of habit. And THAT IS your fault."

"Very well." Drowsiness assailed Prime once again but a sharp pain shot across his shoulder line, cutting off flow between his processors and lasercore. He waited for systemic bypass but he was so overheated he was forced to oxygenate.

"We WILL get help." Galvatron promised. His optics were met with Prime's skepticism. "We will." he insisted.

Prime remained very quiet while his body recovered. He wanted rest but did not dare. Forcing his mind to stay alert, he returned the Decepticon's gaze with a small measure of acceptance. "We DID survive Mars." he said quietly.

"Right! That party was crashed. Heh." Galvatron brightened and Prime was surprised how comfortable he felt there next to his companion. He considered asking Galvatron to watch over Roller, maybe even take him to Rusti. She'd care for him.

"Prime," Galvatron called again, "I know this is not the time, but . . . I found something. I thought you . . . might want to have it back. I found it at Mars. Forgot about it til now."

The Autobot stared at him with expectant optics and received a flat rectangular object. He recognized it instantly and gasped. "Where-how?! How did you come across this?"

Galvatron pleasantly and sleepily smiled. He settled back into his corner with a simple shake of his head. He watched his companion embrace the photograph close to his chest. A lost treasure.

"All of Rusti's drawings and flowers are in here." He turned to his companion, his core overflowing with gratitude. "Galvatron-"

"Save it, Prime." The Decepticon's optics hazed back. The bit of weak energon Prime gave him was wearing thin. Galvatron needed a strong dose of hot ionized energon spiked with silicone nitrate to flush impurities from his transductive port stabilizers.

Prime did not argue. He stared at the photograph of Kup, Ironhide and Hot Rod as he traced the frame. He missed them. The years preceding the Decepticon take-over of Cybertron were far too brief.

Finding Hot Rod alive was nothing short of a private miracle. Now Ironhide was gone. Friends come and they leave and the Autobot leader wondered how many more he would soon lose.

"You'll warp the picture . . . by starin' at it." Galvatron teased.

"They look better than you do." Prime quietly joked.

"Mm. Probably FEEL better than either . . . of us."

"The energon's wearing off."

"Oh!" Galvatron brightened a moment from his on-coming stupor. "You noticed! Heehee! But honestly, Prime, such triv-ial stuff. Yerrr a machine. What makes you think you're able t' love? Pathetic notion."

"What of it?" Prime dared back. "What do YOU know of love? Other than a target of jest or ridicule?"

Galvatron nodded. "Point taken. But do you really think you're capable? You're built for warfare . . . destruction. Not summ . . bunch of . . . mushy feelings."

The Autobot stared and wondered if it really was Galvatron to whom he spoke or the poison. "Depends on your definition. Love isn't what most people think. Loyalty is a form of love-unless you consider that a weakness. Devotion is love."

Galvatron shook his head as his CPU clouded further. "Sss. . . yourrr compassion that getss the better a' you, Prime. How do you know anyone loves you back? it's a waste, something that ventually betrays you to ruin; a distraction."

Galvatron spoke a hurtful truth. Few Autobots appreciated his sacrifice. Few understood what it was like to be their leader. But responsibility for them went beyond his own spark. His life was not his own. The Matrix shared much of who and what he was. "It's a necessity." he finally answered. Prime considered that a weak defense.

Galvatron struggled through the haze in his head. Loyalty and devotion. Respect and honor. They were all aspects of love-an attitude, not a feeling. "Maybe you're right." he said softly, "it's necess-ssessary. Have to believe in something, right?"

"What?" the pain across Prime's shoulder struts eked down his back. "Galvatron, if you don't believe in anything, why are you asking me?"

Galvatron smiled. He had been rescued from eternity in the Pitt and brought here. "Oh I believe," he answered. "I believe."

Prime grew cross, "what could you possibly believe in? And how can I believe what you say? You don't believe in compassion, devotion-or that life is sacred."

Galvatron shrugged. "You're right. You're right. At one time I did not. I re-refused t' believe life after death. I did-didn't believe lots of things." Galvatron's optics hazed completely over, drowning in encroaching static, "But I was wrong. I believe-believed-do-believe in you. You're here. that's a valid thing."

"What's valid?"

"You." Galvatron answered simply. "Your int-um-int-gre-integrity. That's valid. I think it's valid. I believe in your integrity, your . . . honor. That's love. I believe. I have faith. Can't take corners from th' square, Prime."

Optimus could neither answer nor refute Galvatron's statement. In a way, it made the Autobot leader feel vulnerable because those same traits were easily exploited and betrayed. What was worse was that Prime was bound to them.

They sat a while in silence. Prime dozed but sleep fled from him; pain kept him awake and increasingly cranky.

The only sound now came from Roller as he crunched fine gravel and debris under his six steel-belted tires. The hollow hanger stood motionless like a mausoleum.

Movement registered on Roller's scanner and he softly signaled to Prime. The Autobot leader did not acknowledge him. His optics dimmed on then darkened again. Prime heard but had no compulsion to move. Just another moment of shut down; another moment of sleep. The quiet world bade him not to be concerned.

Someone laid a hand on the Autobot's shoulder and Prime slowly, reluctantly came to life.

Cyclonus checked Prime's electropulse. Relief touched the Decepticon's unmoved expression. "You did not respond." To his surprise, Optimus Prime did not answer. Cyclonus pressed a small cube between the Autobot's hands. "Here. I found this."

As subtle as the Decepticon's touch was, he still made accidental dents in Prime's softened exterior. Without complaint, however, the Autobot leader accepted Cyclonus' gift and drained the energon. Bitter and strong as it was, the energon was a welcomed sensation to his languishing body.

Cyclonus turned from Prime to Galvatron and examined his friend.

"I'm afraid he's been out." Prime's quiet tone fell flat in the dark. Cyclonus did not acknowledge as he scanned Galvatron's life signs.

"I know you can hear me," his voice fell so low Prime almost could not hear.

Galvatron was unresponsive. Cyclonus fed him two small energon cubes and a vial of cordial. A grim smile touched the lieutenant's lip components. He settled before his companion and watched Galvatron return to shut-down.

Prime watched Cyclonus watch Galvatron. The former Decepticon lieutenant did not so much as blink. Neither did Prime. In spite of the fresh energon, Prime's systems were shutting down. He ached to see Rusti and hoped he had the strength to fight his way back to her.

Cyclonus let go a deep long sigh. His head bowed in weariness.

"Cyclonus," Prime's voice surprise himself. So quiet, so soft. "I understand Galvatron's plight. I understand his status. But you . . . you can still return; or could have. Why do you stay?"

Cyclonus did not look back for a long time. But he finally gazed over his shoulder. "I am here for Galvatron."

Prime stared, struggling to understand whatever vague concept Cyclonus was addressing. "He's a part of you?"

Cyclonus' optics flared. "You think that makes me weak?"

"No. It makes you stronger. You have a wonderful sense of responsibility."

A side of Cyclonus Prime never saw before emerged as though all the passion and determination repressed for uncounted years, surfaced to speak: "I believe in the strength of Decepticon might. I believe in our destiny-whatever that might be. I believe Galvatron is still the rightful leader of the Decepticons and he will one day regain his place."

Prime did not know how to answer that. "Does that include conquest, destruction and hate, Cyclonus?"

The Decepticon shook his head just slightly. As swiftly as the passionate fire lit his face, it dimmed, leaving the usual quiet person: "I will not agree that everything Decepticons have done are honorable-by anyone's accounts. But they are MY people. And there's bound to be a place for us. But . . . how can we fight against millions of years of tainted programming? To be a Decepticon means to be a conqueror."

Once again Cyclonus' question was too big for Prime to answer. The Decepticon snorted in disgust. "What am I asking you for, Prime? How can I expect you to understand? You're still just an Autobot."

Galvatron drew a deep breath and moved as his voice stirred as from a dream. "He understands, Cyclonus. We-we. . .'re in company of the only Autobot to survive Shockwave's concentration camp. Prime understands."

Prime did not add to that. Instead, he gazed to Roller who came to them, beeping once then twice. "Cyclonus, did you see a space port nearby?"

"There is one." Cyclonus stood and rotated his newly-repaired shoulder. "I did not find it impressive. Most of the ships are substandard. Besides, I don't see why we should use a ship when obviously Galvatron has in his possession a deporter."

Both Galvatron and Prime stared at Cyclonus. "Don't think so," the chorused.

Cyclonus shrugged.

* * *

They waited several more hours for Galvatron's strength to build enough to travel. Cyclonus found additional energon and managed to acquire directions from local street rats. He feared, however, that word of a tough-guy Decepticon harassing the general public might get to Lord Ry. Cyclonus understood why Prime hated Monicus. It was dirty, unfriendly and desolate. 

"The Quintessons would be at home here." he remarked.

Galvatron played with the last bit of energon in the small cube he held. He stared at it, enjoying its soft glow. "At one time it was. Monicus was a mining colony."

"Mining?" Cyclonus pretended not to notice Prime's optics dimmed. "For what?"

"Trisilium, Cyclonus. The rarest of all rare elements, including Cybertonium and psydrenium." Galvatron forced himself up. Cyclonus swiftly stood to help but Galvatron indicated he was fine. He stretched and stared at Roller. "You there, the wagon with six wheels." Roller responded in several beeps and a movement forward then left. "That's right. You're smaller than we are. But are you brave enough to navigate us safely from here?"

Roller answered with several other light beeps and a long grinded tone. He aimed straight for the hanger bay doors.

Doubt silenced Cyclonus. He did not know what Galvatron was up to. He watched impassively as his former leader knelt by their Autobot companion and draped Prime's arm across his stern shoulder.

"Come, Soldier," Galvatron quietly called. "Up. Forward."

Prime stirred. His head felt leaded, his feet reluctant to move. Galvatron lifted him with ease and it took a moment for Prime to gather his bearings.

Twenty feet from the hanger, Prime's body lightened, revived slightly by movement. He paused. "Let me . . . let me transform, Galvatron.

The Decepticon smiled. "Speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour, Prime. You're in a residential zone."

It would have been funnier at another time. But wearied by pain suppression, Prime paid the remark no mind. He slid into truck mode and winced. His systemic nocturn slips ached with brittleness.

Roller zipped about and in front of the Autobot leader, anxious to get moving. Galvatron and Cyclonus walked alongside their companion and in three blocks faced the same shambled town they escaped almost a full day before.

Roller seemed to know exactly where he was going. But being the highly maneuverable and speedy little Autobot that he was, Roller zipped in and out of sight. Prime and Galvatron, unaffected by the game of hide-and-seek, kept their course, pausing before stop signs and maintaining alert as they shuffled along the early day traffic.

Heading due west, the trio and Roller inched toward the town's newer spaceport. A worn, rusted old sign spelled the town's statistics in five languages, including trader's code.

The town's name struck a chord with Galvatron but he could not recall why. Some yards away, Prime paused in his slothful tracks, Cyclonus beside him. But Galvatron paid no mind. His optics dimmed as he struggled to recall a distant past, an event that happened long before his own initial creation.

Zoar.

Galvatron stared and struggled until he concluded he simply could not remember. He sighed and abandoned the roadside a bit disappointed with himself. He stomped past Prime. "I certainly hope you know how to bargain for a ship, Prime. I forgot my credit card."

"I have currency."

"Right. You're going to sell yourself for spare parts." Galvatron glanced back at the Autobot. "Have you seen yourself lately? You're not exactly standard equipment."

"I could always sell you and Cyclonus to a medical facility as cadavers."

"Nice. I'm sure Cyclonus would make a better looking carcass than I."

"Wait!" Prime hushed, "did you hear that?" He transformed but remained on his knees.

Still cross, Galvatron turned, wondering what could possibly happen now.

Soft, distant thunder rumbled about Monicus' dark day-time sky.

Galvatron and Cyclonus exchanged puzzlement while Roller zipped back to Prime's side.

"It's not possible!" Cyclonus declared. "There can't be rain on Monicus! It's an asteroid, a chunk of space rock!"

As he said it, a shadow crept over the landscape and a great white object loomed at the horizon. As it neared, tiny drops of ice-cold liquid kissed the ground. Galvatron raised his face to feel the icy touch.

Prime also reveled in the delicious clean rain, remembering the cold January rains in Oregon.

Galvatron burst into laughter. To Prime's surprise, it was not the maniacal laughter of a madmech, but a clear, confident laughter springing as from a soul reborn. "It's not water-rain, Cyclonus! It's Co2! **Soda-water**!

Cyclonus stared at newly-forming puddles as the Co2 bubbled like over-active peroxide. He did not see why it made Galvatron laugh.

Galvatron approached Prime, laid a friendship hand on the Autobot's shoulder and proceeded to lead them toward the spaceport.

Roller whirred and bleeped excitedly and by the second series of his chatter, the trio turned to the sound of growling, snapping scimitar dogs.

Instinctively Prime produced his rifle. Galvatron spun back and forced Prime's rifle down. "No! You'll only enrage them!"

Prime stared at Galvatron's optics. They were going to have to make a run for it and he had very little energy.

"Off the road!" Galvatron led them down a jagged ravine forested by huge ancient pillars carved by meganiums of heat and ice.

The scimitar chased madly after, skating down the ravine, tumbling head over end, even crashing against the ancient carcass of a deserted vehicle.

The Co2 rain intensified, blasting down like miniature daggers, obstructing vision and hearing. Roller and the trio of robots dodged broken stone, crumbling rock slides and shooting boulders offset by a powerful burst of lighting.

Cyclonus transformed and pelted the boulders with short bursts from his lasers, saving Galvatron and Prime and temporarily blocking the hounds.

Prime and Galvatron pressed through the punishing ice storm. A frosty blanket of frozen Co2 covered the landscape, weighing down Cyclonus' wings and icing the ground.

The hounds behind them slipped and fell but remained undeterred in their quest for Transformer hemotricity.

A lake loomed ahead of Galvatron. He marveled at the crystal-clear body of pure Co2. Prime stumbled behind him, chilled between overheating and icing over. Galvatron caught him as the weakened Autobot leader slipped. "I think we can cross into the city's drainage system." Galvatron suggested via personal intercom.

Prime's lasercore vibrated hard. His fuel lines ran hot with overheating. In spite of minor fragmenting, his head was clear enough to see there was no way across. At this point, however, he could not conjure hydrofoils from subspace. Optimus Prime only shook his head.

Galvatron reluctantly agreed with Prime's doubt. He himself could not yet fly. No bridge spanned the lake and Cyclonus would soon be too exhausted to keep the alien dogs off their backs.

As Galvatron snapped ice build-up from his shoulder struts and boots, Prime gave the surroundings a more scrutinizing examination.

If (IF) he could focus his weapon well enough he could chop the pillar into stepping stones. But they may not have enough time for steps. A bridge would be messy, but more immediate. The Autobot leader struggled to call his rifle from subspace.

Nothing.

Nothing.

One more attempt.

It did not wish to budge.

WARNING: FAILURE IN ATRICAL ZYN FOURTH POINT ACCESS

_NOT NOW_!

Prime bypassed safety measures and rerouted access commands. It worked but the price was a torn access point. By the time Prime retrieved his rifle, the Co2 storm had glued his feet to the ground.

"Prime, what are you doing?" Galvatron fought against mounting ice and frozen air ducts. He pushed through the falling Co2 as his weakened companion tried to change the settings on his weapon. Prime checked his aim on the great pillar before them and reset the weapon yet again before he faltered, obviously either too indecisive or two weak to carry out his plan.

Galvatron realized what the Autobot leader was attempting and thought it clever. But obviously he needed help. As Prime bowed his head again, Galvatron rushed up and caught the weapon as Prime's weary arms dropped. Galvatron respectfully offered the tri-pulsar laser rifle to his companion. "Show me how to use this thing, Optimus."

Wordlessly, Prime laid his hands on Galvatron's, guiding the Decepticon's fingers along the beta side of the laser rifle. He snapped out the subcharge nail, redirected the nucleate relay and re-clocked the laser pattern flow.

With a breath, Prime concentrated at the weakest, most logical place of the pillar's basin and gave it a single burst.

The laser shot wide, with a greater directional hit in the apex, targeting deep into the heart of the rock.

True to Prime's amazing accuracy, the pillar shuddered, swayed and toppled, falling like a fossilized tree until it whacked the lake. All the pillar's weak points crumbled away, leaving more or less a solid bridge.

With a swift glance back to Cyclonus' position, Galvatron took two steps toward the new bridge before he realized Prime was not following. Inclined to insist, the Decepticon looked back. But the wearisome expression burdening the Autobot's features told Galvatron something else was taking place in Prime's mind.

The Autobot stared at the bridge; the latest in a long line of fallen giants.

**Blood on your hands**, a distant, dark voice whispered.

_Blood stains the soul. I see it on yours; countless thousands; grains of sand. _

_How many more deaths? _

**_How DARE YOU ASK FOR FORGIVENESS? _**

**_YOUR GOD HAS ABANDONED YOU! _**

_LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPON AND ACCEPT YOUR FATE! _

Prime no longer felt the freezing Co2. He did not hear Galvatron calling him. He did not feel his laser rifle slip from his hand.

No one could help him.

Galvatron wondered what care-takers charged now days and whether or not he could get a better fee for babysitting an Autobot leader. He took his companion by the shoulders and guided Prime across the bridge.

The stone slipped under their feet and Galvatron rerouted energy lines to heat the bottoms of his boots so as to attain a better grip on the stone while he supported and guided Prime.

Half way along their journey, lightening struck the Co2 lake, hyper-energizing the active water.

Vaguely Optimus Prime watched the carbonated water respond to the lightning's negative ion dispersion. The carbon molecules, re-energized, lit from the bottom up.

To the Autobot leader, it looked like a lake of liquid diamonds; pure light. Each tiny bubble contained some form of laughter that broke the surface. Just vaguely Prime heard Galvatron but he did not register anything the Decepticon said. The world around Optimus Prime grew abstract and strange. Something tugged him from the left and Prime just went along like a child, confused and disoriented.

Galvatron found it difficult to keep Prime's attention to the moment. He lapped the Autobot's arm over his shoulders and half guided, half-dragged Prime to the other side.

With a final glance back, Galvatron hoped to spot Cyclonus somewhere through the storm. But only iced Co2 met his optics. Reluctantly, the Decepticon took Prime into the drainage tunnel.

Cyclonus growled at the relentless rain. Heavy ice build-up compromised his skillful flying and the dogs snapped and crowed as they tagged the Decepticon when he slipped too close to the ground. He transformed to robot mode to keep his wings from freezing over. The ice storm caked everything around Cyclonus, reminding him of Earth's arctic landscapes. It was beautiful but either deadly, distracting or annoying. The Decepticon treaded cautiously so as to keep from slipping and spotted Galvatron and Prime making their way over a stone bridge.

Cyclonus turned to track after them when two hounds ambushed him from both sides. He took the terrible deep bite from one scimitar to avoid decapitation by the other.

Cyclonus ducked the second dog then shot the first in the eyes. It fell off, but the second scimitar scampered back. The Decepticon warrior shot it two and three times before the beast went down with a yelp. But three more came to replace it.

"This is not what I had in mind." He shot at them as they neared him at top speed. Cyclonus leapt up and transformed. Skill or not, one person could not evade a pack of hunting dogs.

Cyclonus hovered and blew the plank of sheeted ice from under the dogs. Two of them jumped clear, the third, however, attacked with a leap and securely sunk its long sharp teeth into Cyclonus' left wing. The Decepticon tilted with the sudden weight.

One way to handle this: Cyclonus shot straight up, racing against windsheer. One mile into the sky, the hound released Cyclonus' frozen wing and dropped like a rock straight into the Co2. The dog's body sizzled and vaporized.

Cyclonus cut engines and used energy to thaw his frozen exterior as he fell through the waning storm. By the time he reached twenty-five feet shy of the ground, he was able to transform and land just inside the cavernous drainage system.

Galvatron and Prime were nowhere to be found. Knowing better than to act like Scourge and open his mouth, Cyclonus advanced into the lightless world. Outside he could still hear the storm though it progressively faded and all he heard were his own quiet footfalls, padded by damp soil on the tunnel's flooring. Oddly enough, wherever Galvatron and Prime disappeared to, there appeared to be no trace of them; not in footprints or neutrino trail.

That was the strange part of it: Cyclonus should have picked up Galvatron's neutrino particles along the ground. All Decepticons leave such particles. But the ground was clean . . . except for a few drops of Autobot hemotricity.

Cyclonus dabbed his fingers in it. Lidium ditrate, cybertonium ditrate and fresh energon composites. Optimus Prime was bleeding internally.

But how would that erase a neutrino trail?

Cyclonus did not get his answer but he did find his companions a good half mile into the drain. Gavatron sat silent and still while Optimus lay on his side, powered down.

Galvatron neither moved nor spoke for a quarter of an hour. Cyclonus knew they needed to keep moving. Sooner or later the three of them would be found. He did not wish to press Galvatron. But Ry sooner or later would find the scimitar dead and follow Prime's make-shift bridge.

Cyclonus finally faced his contemplative companion. "Galvatron, it is unwise to remain in one place too long a time. I suggest we press forward."

But Galvatron still did not speak for four more minutes. Cyclonus dared a step then his companion finally spoke: "Why do you stay, Cyclonus?"

Their optics met. But only Cyclonus stared with expectation. He had no answer.

Galvatron dislodged himself from the dirty floor and stretched his acing upper body. "It will not be long before Ry's private police track us here. I want you to leave. **NOW**. You'll find safety at the spaceport. Perhaps even a way off this rock."

Cyclonus silently, stubbornly crossed his arms.

"Cyclonus-"

"No."

"Your loyalty is faulty. Whatever assumptions you may have of me, consider them falsified."

"I am where I need to be."

Galvatron frowned, squared his shoulders and faced Cyclonus dead-on. "There is no future with me. Whatever you're looking for, you'll not find it here."

They held each other's optics for a moment.

Cyclonus shook his head. "I am not leaving, Galvatron. Neither of us knows what may happen. I make my own choices and here I will stay."

Galvatron stared deep into Cyclonus' unmoved optics. Such profound loyalty was certainly nothing he ever earned. Galvatron remembered his former brutal self and wondered how Cyclonus maintained the honor to stay so loyal. It had to be based on something far greater than greed, approbation or power lust. A small sad smile curved Galvatron's lip components. "It may lead you to your demise, my friend," he said softly.

"I will not die vainly." Cyclonus' optics darted toward the entryway. "The rain has passed, Galvatron."

Taking heed, Galvatron knelt beside Prime and scanned. He honestly did not know how much longer Prime could survive without help. He reached for the Autobot. Prime's optics shot on, startling Galvatron.

Prime sat up and stared into the Decepticon's optics with a dark but curious expression. Galvatron beheld an unholy light in the Autobot leader's optics. Prime tilted his head just so. "**Son of Zh'Xn. I see you**."

The voice Prime used chilled Galvatron to his processor. "Prime," he whispered.

Prime's optics dimmed then lit again and the familiar weary expression returned. "You can't help me, Galvatron. No one can."

Galvatron laid hands on Prime's weary shoulders. "Yes, I can." he whispered firmly.

Something more than just the tatlic affected Prime. Galvatron could not even guess and there was no time to ask. Wordlessly, Galvatron helped Prime to his feet and again half-walked, half dragged his exhausted companion forward while Cyclonus-wonderful, loyal Cyclonus-covered them from behind.

They did well the first forty yards. But Prime was silent and somber. His optics remained downcast, his feet dragged on occasion.

Galvatron thought it strange that he should feel so badly for anyone, let alone an Autobot. He hurt inside and finally stopped so Optimus could rest a moment.

Prime leaned heavily against the wall, still making no sound. Galvatron checked his companion's internal temperature, finding Prime too cold in some places, overheated in others.

At that point, Galvatron realized he was actually able to see Prime without shifting visual receptors. He glanced around them. "Where is the light coming from?"

Cyclonus, too, searched before preceding ahead. Galvatron lapped Prime's arm over his shoulders and guided the weakening Autobot leader behind Cyclonus. It was slow going for both of them and Galvatron hoped Optimus could hold out just a bit longer.

What they found was far from what they expected:

A shield of shimmering light blocked the whole passage like a door made of light and water. Galvatron stared but allowed Cyclonus to do the examination. The Decepticon warrior scanned it up and down over several frequencies.

"It appears, Mighty One, this is a shield based loosely on Quintesson phasing technology. But why is it here, in the middle of nowhere?"

Prime's knees tried to give and Galvatron helped him to the wall then remembered he still had Prime's weapon. He removed it from subspace and was about to return it when Prime shook his head. " . . . can't, Galvatron. The access points are torn." The Autobot leader wanted to crawl away and nurse his wounds and illness in private. But all he could do was bow his head and dim his optics.

Galvatron hesitated at first then laid a hand on his companion's arm in sympathy.

"Galvatron." Cyclonus called with an echoless soft deep voice.

Galvatron turned, as three hounds crept toward them in the dark, making not one sound. Galvatron held Prime's tripulsar laser rifle to the light and swiftly changed settings from wide to narrow shot.

Two hounds charged him just as Cyclonus shot the closest one. Galvatron aimed for one hound, crippling its right leg. The second beast knocked him down head-first and gripped the left side of his helm.

Galvatron's first thought was to bite back. Instead, he shot the thing in the belly. Rather than drop off, the bloody mess of a beast hung there, teeth firmly locked. Anger stirred by pain stole Galvatron's patience and he dug his fingers into the beast's brain casing and ripped its head apart.

He threw aside the carcass and just caught sight of movement. Galvatron rolled and back-flipped to his feet as another pair of hounds charged. He protected his face from the second onslaught but one beast blew to pieces, followed by the other.

Mildly surprised, Galvatron turned to Cyclonus who struggled with his own problem.

Prime's weapon sounded off as three Rugarrarn and two more beasts splashed their way closer.

Galvatron leapt to the Autobot's side as Prime fired straight into the Rugarraran's faces. Galvatron ripped the jaws of one, kicked another toward Cyclonus and dodged the third.

Prime finished Hound Number Three as Cyclonus smashed one against the wall and kicked the other scimitar so hard, it flew straight into the liquid-light door. The shield shorted and vanished except the three nodes along the ceiling and walls which glowed brightly enough to allow some visual perception.

Galvatron and Cyclonus stood in silence, staring at the result of their carnage. Prime let fall his weapon. He was so exhausted now he had no strength to keep the rifle in his hands.

_Fall! Fall! _

_Fall! Fall! _

Galvatron took up the Autobot leader's rifle. Optimus remained unmoved as Cyclonus joined them. Galvatron glanced at Cyclonus then back to Prime, concerned, and silently offered assistance.

Prime's optics flared lightly. "I think I can still walk a while, Galvatron."

The former Decepticon leader let Prime walk ahead, though he and Cyclonus glanced knowingly at one another. Galvatron did not know if it was Prime's own pride that kept him going or some other aspect of the Autobot leader's personality. Either way, Galvatron gave Prime whatever room he needed.

Optimus did not fully understand why his companions did not just leave him and move on. Was that not the custom among Decepticons; leave the weak so the strong would survive?

Static ate at the Autobot leader's optics and he rerouted lines. Keep going. Don't let anyone down. Don't let them think you're weak.

It was Primus' will the strong survived. Optimus recalled an Earth theorist who made up the so-called law of survival of the fittest. Cold, but often true in the nature of things. Why shouldn't the Autobots just all lie down and die? Such futility! Weakened by their own conscious, norms and standards, the Autobots deserved extermination.

Primus always favored the Decepticons. They were the stronger . . .

His legs gave out and Optimus collapsed. Primus cared nothing for him or the Autobots he served and sacrificed for.

Someone half-lifted him and Optimus gazed into Galvatron's glowing red optics.

If the Decepticons were so favored by Primus, why weren't they appointed to take charge of the Matrix?

Maybe Primus had been playing mind games with the Autobots all this time.

"All this . . . futility." Optimus weakly mourned. "Why are we still alive? The Autobots . . . so worthless. Nothing. We mean nothing to Primus."

"What are you talking about?" Galvatron wiped fluid streaming down the Autobot's faceplate.

Prime did not seem to hear the question. "**I** mean nothing . . . all my prayers. All I get is silence." Prime's own words threatened to choke him to death. He ached inside-out.

Had this been anyone other than Optimus Prime, Galvatron would have accused him of putting on a display. But such a thing was not a part of Prime's nature. Something was terribly wrong; never in all his life had Galvatron known Prime to be either emotional or irrational.

Galvatron saw movement from his right and covered Optimus Prime with his body. A scimitar landed on Galvatron's back and tore into the Decepticon's shoulder.

Shutting down all pain receptors, Galvatron took to his feet and ripped the blood hound off his body. A second scimitar came at Galvatron but Cyclonus took it out with his weapon.

Galvatron threw the first dog against the wall and shot it twice.

Something freezing hot sliced along Galvatron's back and with a cry, he shot around to face some sort of four-armed alien bounty hunter.

"Talked at Ry to find you easy, Transformer."

Galvatron delivered a jaw-shattering punch but he cussed vehemently the moment the bounty hunter rebounded and leapt for him.

Dimly Prime heard the fighting around him. Shadows danced in his mind and he struggled to attain strength. But there remained no strength with which to help himself let alone his companions.

"Primus," he whispered.

Dead silence.

A large foot, larger than his own, stepped in front of him. Prime forced his optics to climb the height of the person before him. Through x-ray and thermo-vision, the Autobot leader beheld a monster of a creature with the upper torso of an Earth bull and the lower section of a humanoid.

Such creatures were only myth on Earth, but Prime knew a Minotaur when he saw one. They were indeed as brutal and powerful as their physic suggested. The mythical beast loomed over him and drew a long blood-stained sword. "Cut off the head, scoop out the brains. Drink down the blood, toss out the remains."

The bounty hunter swung up, all his strength ready for the kill. Something dark woke inside Prime and his body surged, his optics flared white-hot with a power not his own. "**YOUR INSISTENCE, BRUTAL. YOUR LIFE MINE**."

A gruesome spiked head snapped down from the ceiling and a set of giant teeth bit off the top portion of the bounty hunter's skull.

From a distance, Prime heard the Voog D'Draph's voice echo eerily as from a dream and for a moment, Prime hoped it all was just a really bad dream. But more voices and the howls of the scimitar followed the Voog D'Draph's words. Ry's hunting party advanced into the tunnel. "**Here, Lord Ry! Sitting in the water! Someone has killed the scimitar**!"

Galvatron heard her voice, too but he could do nothing as long as his head remained locked under the bounty hunter's grip. The wound along his back burned and smoldered and Galvatron presumed the weapon was acid-laden.

The bounty hunter squeezed tighter, not aware Decepticons had two back-up systems for energy and cooling distribution. Which was how, though cut off from energy to his CPU, Galvatron was still able to sneak his arm around the hunter's leg and trip him up. Galvatron plunged his elbow into the hunter's face, smashing his nose.

The Decepticon scampered and without preamble, Galvatron pulled Prime to his feet and the three stumbled over the minotaur into the darkness until Cyclonus and Galvatron heard another round of guns charge up for the kill.

"GO!" Galvatron shouted to the other Decepticon. At first, Cyclonus objected, then realized it would be better if he left then came back in a surprise attack- if that was Galvatron's plan. Cyclonus hesitated just long enough to send a few charges down the tunnel before he shifted to jet mode, keeping his wings clipped to fit the tunnel.

Driven by instinct, Prime and Galvatron ambled along as dogs dashed for them. Ry and the Voog D'Draph's voices egged their hunters forward.

Running was difficult enough for Galvatron. Bitten, slashed and slowly disintegrating from the acid blade, his body screamed for retaliation.

Optimus Prime, however, had nothing left and did not feel the laser shot it hit him in the back.

He slammed against the cool dirty floor as his body gave out completely. Echos and voices rang loud but garbled. Someone half-lifted him from the ground. His whole exostructure ached from softened metal. Galvatron distantly called but Prime could not answer.

The Autobot leader gasped for cooler air in Galvatron arms as he half-held Prime's languid form. The former Decepticon commander sorely regretted there was nothing more he could do.

". . .go." Prime gasped, his optics weakly flared. " . . . go. You can still go."

"No!" Galvatron choked up. "We've come too far! I WON'T let you go!"

The scraping claws of two scimitars hissed along the drain walls as the encroaching dogs snarled and gnashed their solid steel teeth.

* * *

Easy prey lay ahead; they could take their time. 

The first scimitar came within three feet of Galvatron before it inexplicably exploded. The second one charged and leapt for its prey but it blew to pieces above Galvatron's head.

Someone's body slammed upon the drain's dirty flooring and the Decepticon clearly heard the Voog D'Draph struggle against a silent and invisible foe.

He gathered Prime and started to carry him away when the constable cried out and charged him. Galvatron did not know how he did it, but he gently laid the Autobot down, spun once and cuffed the female in the chin, using her own momentum against herself.

She flipped backward and landed hard on her back. A steel blade flashed out of nowhere and separated the Voog D'Draph's head from her body.

Shocked, Galvatron's optics darted this way, that. Cyclonus was nowhere to be seen. Optimus coughed slightly and when the Decepticon turned back to attend Prime, he encountered a set of strong red optics staring him square in his face.

Galvatron startled and yelped.

The optics belonged to a tall, strong but shapely figure who secured a huge weapon at the hip.

"Phasics set. Take them." a feminine voice spoke behind Galvatron but no matter where he looked, he could not locate the voice's owner.

The figure before him remained unmoved. "Is the Autobot with you?" The voice, though a slightly different pitch, was also feminine.

"Y-yes." Galvatron stammered.

"Take him and follow."

Galvatron watched the figure walk off. What precious bit of light shed through the drain tunnel revealed the figure as a femme.

But it was a **robotic** femme.

And she was a **Decepticon** robotic femme.

His powercore froze in shock.

How?

How the Pitt?

How?

She paused and turned back, red optics bright, face expressionless. "Do you require assistance?"

Galvatron stared, dumbfounded.

She approached and the former leader thought his fuel lines would burst with fear and excitement, with wordless shock, with bewilderment and absolute joy.

She knelt on one knee and examined him, still expressionless, and spoke slowly. "Do you require assistance?"

Galvatron could not snap himself out of his perplexity. "How are you still living? Shockwave killed all of you; you're all dead."

"I am Panda. I will not harm you. My scanners indicate your companion is badly damaged."

Panda. Galvatron's lip components moved but no sound uttered from his vocalizer.

Still expressionless, she turned from the immobilized Galvatron to the injured Autobot. The softest tones of compassion from her made Galvatron all but melt. "Oh . . . he has Tatlic." Panda proceeded to half-lift Optimus Prime. She cringed when his exostructure sank slightly by her attempt to move him. "We must get him to medbay. He's in the last stages."

Galvatron blinked out of his state enough to take on Prime's languid form, admonishing himself. He too cringed when Prime's metal, softened by chemical breakdown, caved in.

With a drawn breath, Galvatron nodded for Panda to lead the way.

Twenty feet down, a soft light flickered on and Panda glanced at Galvatron. "Your design is alien, but you are still Decepticon. Explain."

"I am Galvatron. This is Optimus Prime."

Panda paused. Her movements were so silent, so fluid, Galvatron thought he could never tire watching her. "I was emphasizing your looks, Galvatron. You do not look like any Decepticon I've seen. He certainly does not resemble an Autobot worker or scientist. I do not understand."

At a loss for words, Galvatron glanced back toward the force field then to Panda. "Neither do I. You are obviously a Decepticon femme, yet there have been no Decepticon femmes for millions of years."

"Nonsequitur. Your statement is faulty. Explain."

"Shockwave."

Panda shook her head. "I do not know of Shockwave. What is it?"

"Shockwave was a Decepticon high-command who hunted down and exterminated the femme population on-why don't you know of it? It's in our history."

A second femme's voice sounded from Galvatron's right and another figure emerged as if from rock and shadow. Galvatron could hardly see her except for her radiant optics and highlights off her rich dark skin. "We stand ever still inside the phasic shield. Cybertron has apparently changed and you, Galvatron, said your companion's name is Prime. Is this not correct?"

"Yes. Optimus Prime."

"I do not think they are from Monicus, Black Ice." Panda intervened.

Unmoved by her companion's assessment, Black Ice stared hard into Galvatron's optics. "And am I wrong to ascertain that this is an Autobot leader?"

"He is a Senior Prime. One of two." Had Galvatron not been so mesmerized, he would have already grown impatient.

"And what year is it on Cybertron?"

"Uhh . . . AU 33, I believe. Post-Unicronian."

The two femmes stared.

"It appears you are from the past, Panda. **My** past. I am from Cybertron's future." A drop of warmth landed on Galvatron's left foot and he tried to see past Optimus' form but could not.

Panda bent over, examined the liquid and stood straight. "Enough conversation. Come. Or we will lose him."

Black Ice stepped ahead of Panda and led them another sixteenth of a mile. Galvatron almost could not keep up with the ladies. He certainly was not as quiet as they. Aching from battle wounds and still weary from ingesting poisoned energon, he found it frustrating keeping an optic on them and one on Prime. "Wait," he called. "It's been a crappy day."

The Decepticon femmes paused simultaneously and faced him. Without preamble, Panda took Prime and stole two steps back, staring at Galvatron expectantly.

The Decepticon mech shook his head, bewildered. "I don't understand. He is an Autobot. Why are you concerned for his welfare?"

Black Ice's stoic expression turned to shock. "WHAT?"

"Nonsequitur, Galvatron." Panda chastised. "Explain your remark."

"He is an Autobot. You are Decepticon. What more need I say?" The ladies merely stared at him, astounded. "THE WAR?" Galvatron emphasized. "You know what **that** is, correct? The Autobots attack us, we conquer them. They revolt and start the process over again."

Panda looked appalled. "The Autobots are our life source. We are their protectors. You speak . . . non-logically."

"Enough conversation." Black Ice said sternly. She turned Panda round by the shoulders and glared at Galvatron.

They descended further underground into a hand-hewn tunnel.

The tunnel broke into a great cavern wherein stood a sizable Decepticon craft. It was well built but, to Galvatron's surprise, it was not a warship.

Galvatron followed the ladies onto the landing dock at the belly of the vessel. Two sturdy Decepticon fliers zoomed up to greet the party. They transformed and between them, assembled an energy anti-grav medical carrier from subspace.

One flier immediately helped Panda lay Prime on the flat. Optimus stirred from the movement. His dark dreams trapped him in regret, violence and death. He gasped for air as though suffocating and stretched his fingers, groping for some shred of hope.

He was being eaten alive while he watched his people die.

"They should have executed me."

Panda held the fliers back one moment longer. Never had she heard such despondent regret come from the spark of an Autobot, let alone an Autobot leader.

She attentively took his outstretched hand and hovered close so he might hear: "We're here for you."

Her words came painfully sweet like the final colors of a dying sunset. The Autobot leader dimmed on his optics and struggled through dark static to see the face of kindness. But he perceived nothing.

The medical team could wait no longer and left Panda to deal with her sorrow. Galvatron and Black Ice joined her, staring down the same dim passage. Panda could not face them.

"I have never seen an Autobot leader so completely dispirited or disconsolate. What could possibly have happened to break his spark?"

Guilt afflicted Galvatron, although he knew he was not guilty.

Black Ice shot him a cold look. "Perhaps a thing called conquest', Panda. Rejection of the Rite of Protocol."

"No." Galvatron denied. "He was nothing like this the last time I saw him -sixteen rotations ago." Panda hugged herself and Galvatron saw something he believed was only a recent phenomena: he wiped her face of tears. "You're crying! We never cry-at least until lately." Black Ice stared at him emotionless then proceeded into the ship alone. Galvatron tightened the corners of his mouth. "I seem to be . . . unacceptable."

Panda gave him a wry smile. "Do not let Black Ice intimidate you, Galvatron. It takes her time to warm up to strangers." He did not answer and Panda held out her hand. "Come. Your friend is waiting to see you. He ran into us when he was about to return to you."

Galvatron took her sturdy, warm hand. "I told Cyclonus to go. I knew Prime-" Galvatron almost said Prime was 'dying' but found he could not say it.

"We convinced him to remain." Panda quickly amended. "We've encountered problems with the riff-raff before." She led Galvatron down three corridors and into what he presumed to be medbay. Three tables stood in the middle of a room packed with equipment and technology the likes of which Galvatron had not seen. It was not antiquated by any means.

The first table held Optimus Prime's devitalized body. Around him swarmed four Decepticons; one Decepticon called out the stats, another secured life support systems. A taller Decepticon ran several scans over the Autobot leader.

"LIFE SUPPORT IS GO." the ship's quiet computer voice called through the room.

Galvatron watched as the medics, assistants, scanners and other mechanical devices paraded around the Autobot in a mad dance to save his life.

Panda stared at him until the former Decepticon leader acquiesced to her silent question.

"We should have been here sooner."

"He is important to you."

"Yes."

"Jigsaw and Jitzu are both experts. He could not be under better care."

The staff called the computer to startup life-support systems according to Autobot specifications. The center table slid out of the room into an opening in the nearby wall. A large metal basin rose from a compartment in the floor. A shallow pool of silver-blue and marbled-black liquid gently waved back and forth. One Decepticon physician asked the computer to verify the basin's liquid temperature as the medical team gently lifted their patient and laid Optimus Prime in.

"Life support calculating," an assistant reported. The basin automatically adjusted to the Autobot's shape. Basin edges broadened and the fluid level increased so that it did not completely cover Prime. The basin also automatically elevated the Autobot's head and readjusted temperatures.

"SCANNING ALL SYSTEMS AND FREQUENCIES." The computer reported softly.

Galvatron found himself a seat in a nearby corner as Cyclonus approached, guided by yet another femme. The former Decepticon lieutenant settled next to Galvatron and at first, waited for Galvatron to say something before turning his optics to the doctors. "I apologize, Mighty One. I would have returned except they insisted I remained."

"They came for us, Cyclonus. We are safe. And don't call me that."

Cyclonus met his optics and offered a slight smile. "Did you know there are seventy-five Decepticons here? And one-third of them are femme."

Surges ran down Galvatron's infrastructural rod. His optics settled on the silent, dark red and black femme standing behind Cyclonus. She too watched the medics, seeming oblivious to the new-comers.

Her helm swept out then up in graceful curves. Her face reflected no emotion. Complete control. Complete logic. She was beautiful.

"**What the Pitt is THAT**?"

Jigsaw's comment roused Galvatron's suspicion and the mech joined them. His optics followed theirs to a view screen on the left side wall. A head and chest scan of Optimus Prime displayed fine tendrils sprawled along his neural network and an alien component lay beating within his chest. Galvatron stepped closer for a better view.

Jigsaw, a Decepticon beast of unknown species, scrutinized him. "How long have you been with the Autobot? Do you know what this is?"

Galvatron solemnly shook his head. "Not long enough. And no. Is this not the disease?

"This is a spectrographic analysis of your Autobot friend's life systems. We commonly use the machine to decode the grade of trisilium. On Autobots, it allows us to track the integrity of the transductive port stabilizers and the systemic nocturn slips which are usually affected by Tatlic. I have no idea what this thing is, but it exists on the gamma life force frequency."

As they watched, the beating component churned until a faceless head partly materialized out of the monitor's view screen and a set of bloodied eyes shot open. All the Decepticons flinched in surprise.

Galvatron recalled the words Prime spoke and now he suspected it wasn't Prime at all but this **thing** inside him. Undaunted, Galvatron inched closer, more curious than unnerved. "Can you remove it?" he glanced at the medic round his shoulder.

"Negative. It's not a corporeal form, Galvatron. Technically, it's not real."

Galvatron snorted. "It's real enough to frighten a room full of Decepticons. And it's AWARE of us. How is Optimus Prime?"

"Stabilized for now. It will take time to amend and reactivate his repair systems. He's a remarkable piece of machinery. I've not seen anything built to handle so much tension, so much punishment. Some areas of his physiology are intricate and beautifully advanced."

Jigsaw's answer reminded Galvatron of an Earth automobile commercial and he wondered if Prime would consider the statement insulting. Galvatron returned to his seat and waited.

Bit by bit, the medics and their assistants' voices lulled the Deception to a shallow sleep. Memories of Mars crossed his dreams and he remembered the cold voices of the Quintessons and the sinister Inoux.

Was that why he was given a second chance? Was he supposed to take up the slack when Optimus Prime dies?

Galvatron's optics flashed at the thought. He did NOT want that to happen. He swore to God he was weary of death. The person he once was simply wasn't there anymore.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and the former leader sat up from his stupor to accept a cordial of energon and nutrients.

Panda sat beside him, watching Jigsaw scan and rescan his own work. "What are you fearful for, Galvatron?"

"What makes you think-"

"I've watched you rest. You are concerned."

"Yes."

"What are you fearful for?"

Galvatron stared as a medic declared Optimus Prime was breathing on his own. "Him. Us. We are a dying people."

She hesitated."what makes you say that?"

"Vector Sigma is dead, Panda. The Quintessons have won."

She stared hard at him. "I WON'T believe that. Until every spark of every Transformer has been extinguished, the Quintessons have won nothing. They STILL fear us, do they not?" Galvatron nodded. "Then they have not won."

"But you and the other femmes do not exist in my time, Panda. They have won one victory through the devices of Shockwave's prejudice."

Panda's expression turned cold. "Then we will have to remedy the situation."

Galvatron smiled, but doubt kept his mouth shut. From subspace he produced one of the two Inouxian deporters and examined it." Panda, do you know anything of this technology?"

She glanced at it and shook her head. "Black Ice, Panther, Solstice and Magenta are the techs. I am just here to kick aft."

That brought a broader smile to the former Decepticon leader. "It can wait. What is that . . . stuff, that liquid they placed Prime in?"

"We call it Latzbitris. It's a home-made mix of lanthanum, zinc, boron, nitrogen and trisilium-and a few other additives."

I've not heard of such a repair technique."

She shrugged. "We discovered trisilium has amazing aspects. Research is underway in miniaturization properties and the construction of nactites. We're searching for a way for robots to heal themselves, or even replicate components within their own bodies. We've been mining for decades directly under Quintesson olfactories. "

Galvatron started in shock. "Auto repair systems that can also physically replace worn or damaged components? That sounds more like science fiction, Panda."

Panda shook her head. "They said the same thing at the time Crystal City was designed. Her optics fell back to the deporter in his hand. "Come! I'll talk to Black Ice or Magenta. Perhaps they can decipher your hand-held mystery."

Galvatron looked to Cyclonus as though asking for permission to leave. Cyclonus gave a simple nod. Galvatron sent him a look of gratitude before Panda led him down a short hall and into a small lab-

FLASH-alternate

A single-faced Quintesson lackey led Galvatron down a cold, filthy corridor. The Decepticon's chains clinked and rattled about his body; a knell declaring his own demise. They entered a doorway -

FLASH-present

Black Ice turned to greet them. Her reflective body mirrored her surroundings. Panda stood aside to permit Galvatron in. "Galvatron possesses one of those ancient deporter artifacts," she explained. "He should like to know how it works."

FLASH-alternate

The Quintesson scientist left his work to examine Galvatron first hand. "Am I not correct to assume this was once Megatron?"

"He came with the Autobot leader, currently under examination."

"I see. And tell us, Galvatron, what possessed you to join forces with the Autobots?"

Galvatron bore holes into the Quint with his optics. "Hatred of you?"

"Belligerent Decepticon."

FLASH-present

"I think there are crystalline elements in here that are not native to our dimension. In fact . . ." Black Ice stood from the electron microscope and gazed at Galvatron and Panda, " . . . it doesn't look like it should work at all." She tapped a tiny pool of unknown liquid-"

FLASH-alternate

Cold thunder struck Galvatron's right side and his audios fell offline momentarily. Someone or something just punched him hard enough to knock him silly. He stood, finding his surroundings in polished stone and a great computer spanning one entire wall. An alien hissed several unsavory words at Galvatron before the Decepticon realized what he was staring at a hideous alien with two long muscular legs and tentacles snaking from its back. Its head contained three faces: one loathsome, one offensive and the last unbelievably deformed.

"I warned you NOT to send messages to Bare Anches! Certainly ANYTHING with psychic ability will pick up the transmission!"

An ancient five-faced Quintesson floated from behind Galvatron and answered his enraged counterpart with the familiar, smooth voice. "We were unaware Humans had psychic abilities. It would explain their ability to write or create art-"

"I am SICK of your rambling, Kal-Al-Arn. The damage is done and all the time flashes are leading to a cosmic storm!"

"Fasa Somane, naturally I respect your intellect. But there is no such thing-"

FLASH-present

Galvatron shuddered. The alien creature gave him the surges. It looked part Quint and part humanoid.

"Are you functioning properly, Galvatron? Do you require something?" Panda scrutinized him and Black Ice turned from her work, her bright optics pierced him.

Galvatron sheepishly shrugged. "Rest, perhaps. But the deporter is by far more important."

Black Ice shook her head. "This requires time. I suspect this is interfering with our phasic shielding, causing time flashes."

Galvatron stared at the dissected piece of machinery. "Time flashes? That can't be correct. We experienced time flashes on Mars-**before** I used the deporter."

Black Ice turned to Panda. "My calculations appear incompatible with other current phenomena. Something is moving along the positive protonic wavelengths. But when I approach, it disappears."

"I will ask Solstice to investigate. Come, Galvatron. Allow me to take you to a resting place.

Galvatron felt time pressing; something inside screamed his time was short; that he needed to get Prime and Cyclonus out. But he did not know how.

He followed Panda down the corridor, passing the infirmary where attention over Optimus Prime fell quiet.

"Wait," he called softly. "I should like to check."

Wordlessly the black and silver femme followed him into medbay. All but two of the med-staff had left a while ago to allow Prime some time to recover from treatment. At a table in a corner of the room, Jitzu worked on several digipads and muttered quietly to himself.

At the cubical sat Panther, attending Prime by slowly scooping liquid and sprinkling it over his sleeping form. Panther welcomed Galvatron and Panda with a light smile. The Decepticons approached and Galvatron searched for something to give him a status.

"He **is** better, Galvatron." Panther said softly. "But he is exhausted. He knows you're here, too." she gazed at him with crimson optics. "You're important to him. I think I can tell why."

Panda interjected here with a touch on Galvatron's forearm. "I should let you know that Panther is psychic, Galvatron."

His face brightened. "Then you must be aware of the time flashes."

Panther turned grim. "I've shielded myself from sensitivity to them a long time ago. Monicus sits on the edge of a ley-line. Time flashes happen often but in the past few weeks, they've occurred more frequently and more intense-" Panther paused as though listening to Optimus Prime. But he was not speaking. "Was he subjected to a life-altering traumatic experience at some point, Galvatron?'

"You could say that."

"His spark is splintered."

"What?"

"I've sat here all this time because I sensed he was in pain. I see now that his spark is only fraction of what it should be. What happened?"

Galvatron guiltily shook his head. "I don't know. Cyclonus and I have not seen the Autobots for several rotations. We've come to an impasse with the Decepticons and sought assistance. What we found was an offensive maneuver by the Quintessons and something else: the Inoux."

Panther, Panda and Jitzu stared at him. Jitzu put down his work and joined the group. "Why have the Inoux returned? Primus Maximus vanquished them a long time ago before the Dark One took power."

"The Dark One?" Cyclonus echoed from his corner. "Who is that?"

Panther looked away, her face heavy. "We do not mention his name. He spoke and millions died. The light in Cybertron vanquished. The sky lost its color and parts of our world fell to radiation-disease. Whole levels are now unable to support life of any kind."

Cyclonus gazed at each robot in turn. "You speak of Dark Prime. The one Autobot leader who was assassinated by his own warriors."

"Those few who were left, yes." Panda folded her arms, her face downcast. "No one knew any Autobot had such control. No one knew the Matrix of Leadership was so powerful. That's why the Rite of Protocol was formed."

"The what?" Galvatron and Cyclonus chorused.

Panther stared at them, wondering if they did not hear her. "The Rite of Protocol," she repeated.

"What is that?" Cyclonus asked first.

Panther looked to Panda in disbelief. "Are you serious? You don't know?"

Jitzu lined his face with puzzlement. "As advanced as you are, being from the future, how could you **not** know the Rite of Protocol?"

Galvatron squirmed with embarrassment. "Meganiums from now, your time, the Quintessons will create a monster of monsters: Megatron." Galvatron's own words bit his spark.

A truth of truths. Megatron was a monster.

With a bit of breath and courage, Galvatron continued his explanation: "This monster's narrow-minded obsession with power set the Decepticon social structure into chaos. We became a race of monsters. Uncivilized, we waged war with the Autobots. We destroyed anything standing between us and rulership of Cybertron and other planets across the quadrant. History was either rewritten or eliminated and forgotten altogether. The femmes were driven to extinction. We lost our culture, our logic and our objectivity. The so-called Rite of Protocol has not existed for millions and millions of years."

The other Decepticons were stunned into silence. Galvatron felt as though he had told the darkest and dirtiest secret of his life and felt deeply ashamed of everything. Such waste. All for what?

Power.

But now he realized that power and fame did not create happiness. His own lust destroyed the very thing he wanted. What evil possessed-

wait.

Stop.

It was over.

That person was dead and gone because Galvatron was given a second chance. All he had to do was accept it. And he did. The monster inside him was dead and gone and he could move forward.

The challenge of so doing was enormous. Galvatron understood that his people were dying. Prime told him there would be no more children. But he did not know if he were sent back to watch them and the Autobots vanish into extinction, or pull them back from it.

Either way, Galvatron acknowledged he had neither the power or the ability to save them.

He spoke again in a room filled with despair. "It seems to me that the so-called Golden Age of Cybertron pales sorely compared to the age wherein the Rite of Protocol was used. Tell me the Protocol. Teach it to me."

Dead silence.

Panther turned wholly to Optimus Prime. His captivating blue optics dimmed on but she doubted he was aware. She dipped her long fingers into the basin's warm fluids and sprinkled drops over his chest and faceplate like gentle rain. She hoped they were in time to save him. But why bother? There was no future; not for any of them.

But Panther's honor-all their honor-demanded they pass down the doctrine of integrity. If there was even the slightest chance that someone else caught onto what was truly important, then the Rite had to be taught.

"Article I: Rebound: Death returns to those who deal it out abusively. For death comes to the spark, to the core and to the body alike. What you pass out will return-" Panther shot her hard gaze at Galvatron. "-how could you wage war on the Autobots? We RELY on them! We are a symbiotic society! Without them, we would starve. Without us, they would be vulnerable to enslavement by the Psortaons, the Chank and the Inoux!"

Galvatron could not reply. Even as simple an answer as narrow-minded arrogance' did not sound detailed enough to excuse millions and millions of years of war. No, actually, it wasn't war. It was genocide.

Panda took up the next segment of the Rite: "Article II: Hatred is the death of reason. Forgiveness is the rebirth of relations. Article III . . . "

FLASH-future alternate

Galvatron silently mourned as the vicious Quintesson scientists tore into Prime's lifeless body.

Ry-Sooqual Al-aldura floated to the Decepticon. His Face of Deceit projected gloat. "By rights I should thank you for stopping long enough to visit us-"

"**It's not here**!"

Sooqual's Face of Hate switched and snarled at Galvatron. "Where is it, Galvatron? Where is the Autobot Matrix?"

Galvatron grinned. "Let me think. Uhhmmm . . . Oh YES! I gave it to Scourge to destroy. That was, oh let me see . . . about THIRTY-FIVE EARTH YEARS AGO!"

A single-faced Quint snaked over. "Ignore the Decepticon reject. There are other means to acquire the whereabouts of the Matrix."

Galvatron watched them depart. He and Prime endured several days of torment and interrogation in Quintesson chambers.

Weakened by the Virus, Prime fell into a chasm of silence unbroken either by word or torture. But the night he died, he told Galvatron an astonishing secret:

"The Matrix . . . my son has the Matrix."

"Your SON? You have a son?"

"Mechlatex can heal the Matrix. He can go to Mechlatex . . ."

Galvatron searched for a light of strength usually present in Prime's face but he found nothing but the flare of dying optics. "We will find your son. WE will go to Mechlatex."

Prime's form slowly went limp and grey, leaving Galvatron along to mourn.

FLASH-present

Galvatron startled, his optics flashed. He was still in the Decepticon ship.

No Quintessons. No torture chamber.

Prime was still alive.

Panda recited the Rite of Protocol word for word for another hour, inserting bits of history Galvatron knew nothing about. After a while, however, the conversation fell from the whole room to just himself and the femme. Galvatron listened to every word she said, asking questions only when he did not clearly understand. It was like taking a crash course in current events.

Galvatron fell asleep still listening to her, or so he thought. He stirred later, finding the room quiet with resting comrades.

For the first time since his arrival, Galvatron wondered why he and Cyclonus had yet to meet the ship's captain. But time was old and inappropriate for social introduction; especially if this group rejuvenated at regular intervals.

Galvatron thought about checking on Optimus Prime when a shadow darkened the doorway. Black Ice stepped in, quieter than the passing night. She squatted before Galvatron, the reassembled deporter in hand.

"Apologies for the interruption," she said via interpersonal comline.

"I was already awake. What have you found?"

"Sequencing. Blue sets the designation. White is the timing of departure and arrival. Black is the distance."

Galvatron took the hematite box from her and examined it casually. "Coordinates?"

Black Ice lined her lip components and solemnly shook her head. "My guess-and I apologize for it-I suppose whomever owns the deporter would already know the sequencing numbers, the coordinates."

Galvatron almost banged his head against the wall but stopped himself before waking anyone. "Nice."

"Not really."

"I can't be expected to skip-rope across the damned cosmos with nothing but my wits, Black Ice."

"No. But with a little more time, I might come up with something."

Panther's voice softly filled the quiet room with a kind greeting in Ancient Autobot. Galvatron pushed himself to his feet and approached the basin, half expecting Prime to sit up and start asking questions.

Prime, however, did neither. He stared at Panther, his optics glowed faintly. The fingers of his right hand opened and closed and he tried to speak, but made no sounds.

Panther slowly moved about him, checking support systems and temperature readouts. Galvatron could tell they communicated privately and wanted to patch in, but felt it would be an intrusion.

"Panther," he said quietly, "Status."

"He is disoriented and wants to know about someone named Rusti.' at first I thought he was joking when he said her name then said she was his love. I've tried to explain the situation but he's too confused to understand."

"I see." Galvatron plastered a firm expression and tried to look annoyed. "I grow weary of being your nurse-maid, Prime. You're more trouble than my agent said you'd be. I'm raising my fees."

Dizziness assailed Prime and for a moment he could not understand what Galvatron said. His first attempt to answer failed. He tried again but his voice reverberated slightly and words came slow. "You make a lousy babysitter . . . Galvatron. If I paid you . . . I'd dock you for paying more attention to the girls . . . than to me and Cyclonus."

The ladies smiled but only Panda laughed once. Galvatron's optics glanced from Panda to Black Ice to Panther. Their quiet demeanor was nothing less than sheer delight. "Well . . . they're prettier than you. I think you can forgive that." he caught a faint smile from Prime before the Autobot leader faded back to rest.

Black Ice turned and left the room. Galvatron looked to Panther. "When will he be strong enough to travel?"

"Unknown. Not all the damage is because of the Tatlic, Galvatron."

It wasn't the answer he hoped for but Galvatron was grateful Prime was at least out of danger. Without another word, he chased Black Ice down the corridor, rushing to keep up with her long silent strides. "How can we map coordinates for the deporter, Black Ice?"

She paused dead still and he had to back up two paces. Her striking red optics searched his face. "Stay with us, Galvatron. You, Prime and Cyclonus. I am aware you may already have plans in your time-period. But there is so much we can learn from one another."

Galvatron ran a finger down the side of her helm and sadness filled him. "Millions of years from now, from your time, a monster will rise and eliminate the one thing that kept a check on Decepticon rationality. Make no mistake when I tell you that seeing you-all the ladies here-is a gift. We became a race of brutes." Then he brightened, "how about **you** come with us? All of you? Rejoin the Decepticons in the future!"

Black Ice recoiled. "Follow you into an era of death? Follow you to a place and time when there is nothing but grief and destruction? To become a part of a society that knows nothing but greed and hate?"

"Not be a part of it, Black Ice, to help us CHANGE it!"

She shook her head. "You cannot expect a blue star to turn cold. How can you expect a Decepticon to stop his barbaric ways? You will never be able to change that. If you are looking to change our people, then you will have to find those who are **willing** to change."

The ground under them shifted and Galvatron backed against the partition to steady himself.

"It's another quake."

"**Another** quake? Black Ice, this is an asteroid."

Affirmative. But it's the fourth quake we've had in three days-"

Her words were cut off when both Decepticons saw a line of Quintessons float right out of one wall, cross the corridor and disappear into the next wall. Heedless of possible danger, Galvatron approached the line and stared at the procession and the incredible ornamental crowns they bore.

"**Kuthrain. Sord. Sort kuth nemral. Zh'xn. . . Zh'xn . . . Kuthrain. Kuthrian. Pyrt . . . Pyrt . . . Kuthrian. Kuthrian. Ardazh . . . Ardazh . . . Kuthrian. Kuthrian. Sormate-Tri . . .Kuthrian. Kuthrian**."

And then the procession faded as though they never were.

Surges ran up and down Galvatron's back. He turned to Black Ice. "Tell me you saw that."

"I saw that."

"Tell me the truth."

"I would not lie to you, Galvatron."

"A time flash. But what it was about, I do not know. Except . . . I've heard the word "Zh'xn" before. But not from a Quintesson."

"They were wearing aimeem. That has not existed for millions of years."

"What is aimeem?"

"Crowns worn by a powerful cult some sects of the Continuum involved themselves. They considered themselves allies or partners to certain races or powers. The crowns or aimeem supposedly connected their consciousness to the powers or peoples they worshiped."

Galvatron recalled Prime calling him **son** of Zh'xn. But he doubted Black Ice would know anything of it and the mech chose to keep the knowledge to himself.

The ground shook underfoot again and this time the two Decepticons heard a rumbling.

Cyclonus found them and swayed, hugging the wall when an aftershock hit. "Galvatron," he called, "scanners indicate something is breaking Monicus apart."

With a glance to Black Ice, Galvatron followed Cyclonus to the infirmary but planned to head straight to the bridge.

The next quake knocked everyone off their feet.

Prime, however, felt nothing since the basin remained level by anti gravity. But his optics were on and he was dimly aware of his surroundings and more aware of Panther who had spoken kindly to him. He noticed the ceiling disappeared as though faded from existence. Stars, asteroids and faint nebula stretched above them like a magical mural. Puzzled, all he could do was stare.

Galvatron climbed to his feet, holding the edge of the basin. "Cyclonus," he called, "we're leaving. Now."

"Yes!" Black Ice agreed. "Use the deporter!"

"Not without you. Come."

"No. It's not our time."

Prime just vaguely heard the conversation. As did Cold Darkness. It was planning; taking account all possibilities, all parties involved. But Cold Dark did not like the Decepticons. They left a bitter taste in Its mouth. "Galvatron," Prime tore his gaze from the naked ceiling to his companion and managed to sit up. "I think the chip has malfunctioned."

Galvatron assumed Prime's disorientation kept him divorced from the problem at hand. He pulled the Autobot out and supported him with one arm. "Time to go."

Stop. What the Pitt was he doing? He did not, should not leave the other Decepticons! Galvatron berated himself.

STAY PUT!

But his own hand held out the deporter, ready to give it a try. He hesitated, shook his head. There was treasure he did not want to leave behind.

Prime feebly reached for the little hematite box. "Galvatron. I'll go. They need you."

Galvatron gazed at Panda and she lipped the word stay'. His spark ached between the choices.

The asteroid rumbled again, the ship swayed underfoot.

Galvatron finally made his choice.

**

* * *

ADDENDUM: **

**Interstellar News:****  
****EARTH DATE: ** **November 28, 2038**

Shock and dismay rocked the quadrant today when news of the destruction of asteroid gambling central Monicus inexplicably exploded. Teams of scientists and investigators from Taurus IV, Rells, and Rya-G crowded the scene in hopes of clues and survivors. So far, however, nothing solid has been assessed. No suspects have been tagged with the crime of planetcide.

More news as it develops.

Continued in chapter 8

T.L. Arens


	8. Homecoming

Author's Note: Tired of every Autobot represented as masculine, the writer took artistic license and changed Doublecross to female. Please refer to the Glossary at the Cafe‚ for character profile. 

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 8  
**Homecoming **

**EARTH DATE: NOVEMBER 17, 2038 **

**LOCATION: CRATIS **

No sound.

Like an unfocused movie in slow motion, Perceptor ran to investigate their newly-arrived visitor. One leg kicked out, his body twisted with movement. The other leg followed suit; knee up, feet pointed with impact.

Dust billowed, suspended by the slowness of time.

Perceptor knelt beside the little yellow Bug, glancing this way, that, calling with a plea Rodimus could not hear.

The winds shifted, warm and dry. Their static distorted the Autobot leader's sense of reality. Surges shot up and down Rodimus' back like a bad omen. He should order everyone into the ships and activate all force fields.

Perceptor spoke to Bumblebee, his words, however, fell casualty to Roddi's blocked audio receptors.

Rodimus glanced left and winced as Trixy ran backwards, up the plank from which she descended a moment ago.

Jazz froze in mid-motion as he turned to Convoy.

Perceptor's form began to fade.

Rodimus blinked.

Everything started again just as it was a moment ago. Or did they even live that moment a moment ago?

Causality loop:

A yellow object tumbled from the sky. It crashed.

And loop again:

A little figure fell straight down.

It smashed.

It scooped a crater in the middle of the camp.

The ground shook.

And loop again:

Something fell.

It broke the ground.

The wind blew.

Time froze.

Mid-motion.

The planet Cratis stopped rotating. It reversed, paused, started forward again.

Hail battered the bleak, dry ground devoid of life.

Cratis spun twice in six hours.

The Autobots landed on a pristine, but ancient world crowded with lush green and violet foliage.

The Racing Beast lay in ruins. Twenty-four Autobots, one hundred, thirteen humans, fifty-six extra terrestrials, dead.

The Quintessons did not care; slaves were expendable.

Rusti crawled under the Gabriel Genesis as hail bulleted the landing site. Smoke belched from the Vertical Horizon. Parts of Magnus' body lay like abandoned trash.

She blinked, confused.

Never blink.

Gone was the pristine world of ancient trees and beasts with no names. Now the world bustled with enormous cityscapes; billions of people.

The Cold Refractor shot across the skyline like a comet. A train of smoke and plasma fire mottled the sky with darkness. The 'Refractor bombed the city and the horizon lit like the dawn anew. A sonic blast followed, obliterating windows, tossing organic creatures like seedlings before a desert windstorm.

Rodimus crawled to his baby bird, gasping. His charred frame smoldered; a ghastly sight of exposed components, crisped exostructure and a missing arm.

"Rusti."

Kiss the rain.

Make it right.

Go back to sweet autumn mornings in Oregon when laughter and tea parties were all that mattered.

Rusti blinked through the freezing hail. She watched as their Quintesson captors shoved three Decepticons into a Sharkticon pit.

Stop! Stop!

This wasn't right!

There weren't supposed to be Quintessons! There wasn't a city there a moment-or a day-or an era-ago! Reality shifted.

A vicious fight ensued between Skullcruncher and Springer. Dirge instigated the challenge and no one was allowed to intervene. The animal Decepticon snapped his powerful tail, tripping the wrecker. But Springer shifted to car mode and smashed into Skull. The crocodile aimed to masticate the Autobot, but missed.

Springer leapt high and shifted to chopper, firing as he flew. Skullcruncher shocked everyone when he leapt up and grasped the Triplechanger by the bottom and dragged him to the ground. Groaning in pain, Springer shifted to robot mode to hold back the croc's gaping mouth. Skullcruncher roared and rolled with his prey, twisting and snapping his tail and rolled and rolled.

. . . rolled and rolled.

. . . like the Trench Driver along the desert floor. It spun.

It stopped.

It faded.

The hail decreased.

The camp returned. The Quintessons and their pet Decepticons disappeared. Bumblebee moaned with a bit of a whimper. Magnus crawled to his overheated exostructure and checked his life signs.

Bumblebee began to fade. The little guy disappeared then returned. He came back and vanished again.

The hail fell to a blissful drizzle.

Bumblebee came back.

A bolt of energy struck the ground some distance, south by south-west of the camp. The area of impact fluctuated with a temporal bubble. It did not last.

The affected area bubbled with lava. When the bubble burst, all that remained was a pile of cooling rocks.

A temporal flux globular.

A second one struck further to the north. The cacophony forced all Humans to hold their ears, their very bones vibrated; a sonic barrage.

A third temporal globular struck Air Raid and he smashed into the Saber's Claw, his optics shattered and all other sensors blacked out. The fourth one struck Jasmine Goodwin. She hung suspended for twenty seconds, screaming-screaming until her body split-screaming until there were now two Jasmine Goodwins.

A final bolt smashed into the Interrogator, shattered its sensors and broke the starboard wing.

Hail fell . . . lighter and lighter.

A sprinkle.

A mist.

Now all that remained was a muddy terrain.

The survivors sat or lay shaking, weeping, staring into nothing; shocked.

Rusti wept, her nerves on edge.

Rodimus lay quiet under the Gabriel Genesis. His body ached but thank Primus, he was in one piece trembling and overheated.

Magnus lifted his head and checked for Perceptor who lay between an exhausted Springer and a there-for-real Bumblebee. But so weary was the City Commander, he simply dropped his head and blacked out.

* * *

Rusti came to the sound of Autobot footfalls crunching over melting hail and slipping in icy mud puddles. She found herself tucked snugly under the plank of the Gabriel Genesis.

"Is everyone alright?" some EDC officer called.

"Is anyone awake?"

Rusti peeked out as Springer sat up and snapped a few gaskets back into place. Scratches and dents marked his whole body and a sizeable gash ran down the left side of his chest plate.

Trixy stumbled toward Springer. He stood, unsteady, to greet her.

"What was that?"

"No idea," the Triple-changer answered.

"A time . . . ssstorm." Perceptor answered weakly.

Springer helped the Autobot scientist to sit. Perceptor held his head as though it would roll off his shoulders. "Evidently, the temporal pendulum pursued us from Lunarphyte. Either that or it has reached pandemic proportions and attained status and velocity across the entire galaxy. But I cannot gain a fair assessment until I can attain an intergalactic news feed."

Springer frowned over Perceptor's annoying vocabulary. He did understand the word 'news', however.

"I don't think there's any paper routes that come this far, Professor X." the wrecker turned to Trixy: "Help me check everyone, make sure they're all okay."

Rusti forced herself to move, though she could not stop shaking. She decided Cratis was exactly as Ambassador Koontah said it was; not a vacation spot.

The planet was ugly. The hard ground was warm in spite of the recent storm. There was not one sign of grass or flower and the air stank of dead birds. The sky brooded a sullen red with dirty brown clouds. Now more than before, Rusti wanted to go home.

She crawled to Rodimus. His extreme body heat forced her to remain several feet away. "Roddi?" she called softly.

No answer.

"Roddi?" she repeated. "Rodimus? _Roddi?_"

His optics finally flickered and he stirred.

"Oh man! What hit us?"

"Perceptor said it was a temporal storm. I **hate** space travel."

He rolled onto his back then dropped his head left and smiled at her. "What's a matter, Rus? This is the fun part."

She shot him a dirty, annoyed look.

His smile turned lopped and the Autobot leader sat up. "Wow. Packed a punch. Where's Magnus?"

Rodimus found the Major-General handing assignments left and right. He sent the Aerialbots on reconnaissance, the Dinobots and Monsterbots to realign the ships about the camp and Gryph took charge of Medical.

"Where's Jazz?" Rodimus asked upon approach.

"Checking supplies."

Kup approached and handed a digipad to Magnus and one to Rodimus. "The whole camp is locked confusion.

Nobody can think."

Rodimus glanced at the pad indicating ship names and those Autobots who manned them. "Kup, first thing, we need to do is organize our parameter. I want land details. I see Magnus is working on that. I want detail of every ship; what works, what doesn't. A-a-a-nd where is the Cold Refractor and her crew on the list?"

Magnus and Kup looked surprised. Magnus glanced over Roddi's shoulder strut and read the pad as the Autobot leader scrolled down.

"I hadn't realized she was missing," Kup answered sheepishly.

"Never mind," Roddi answered. "They found it."

"Sky Dive to Magnus," the Aerialbot called over the comlines, "we found the Cold Refractor."

Kup grinned, shook his head and chuckled.

"Copy that, Sky Dive," Magnus replied. "Get me aerial shots, please."

Kup took back the digipads. "It's gonna be a long aft-busting, day,"

Rodimus nodded. "Magnus, we gotta save them-rescue both ship and crew if possible."

Magnus suddenly seemed deflated. "I'll need some extra muscle-cables, Rodimus. And Cloudstreaker, I found, can transfer power sources. I'd like-"

"Do it. I've got enough to deal with here."

* * *

Cleaning duties were delegated to all children nineteen and younger but six and up. Children and teens washed everything from dishes to ship components and laundry. According to Magnus, everyone had to do their part-adult, Autobot and child alike.

Rusti was given the task of hanging laundry between the Razor Lady and the Sunset Kummya. And there was no shortage of it. She and two other girls tossed sheets on lines and pinned clothes on others as Targetmaster

Tracer bent scrap metal into clothes pins.

Rusti took down a load of dried sheets and made her way back inside the 'Kummya to be folded and put away.

She rounded the ship's bow and ran into a wandering and bewildered Bumblebee.

"Uh, h-hi." Bumblebee stammered.

Rusti offered him a light smile. "I'm sorry. Wasn't watching where I was going." she adjusted the overloaded basket and tried to keep sheets from slipping out.

"Here, can I help you with that?" Bumblebee took the basket off her arms and received a greater smile.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Where does it go?"

"This way." and she led him up the plank and from the dock to the living quarters. "I know you don't know who I am. But my Aunt Missy's told me a lot about you; you're Bumblebee."

"Yes. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Rusti, Daniel Witwicky's daughter."

"Daniel Witwicky? As in Spike's son?"

"Yeah." they came to a room set aside for folded laundry and Rusti set the basket at another girl's feet.

"Where is he? Where's Spike and Carly?"

Rusti's demeanor fell. "They're gone, Bumblebee. Long time ago."

"Oh." his expression fell equally as downcast. "I see."

"I'm sorry. It must be hard for you." she led the Autobot back outside, facing the ugly world and its nasty smell.

The little Autobot shrugged. "It's . . . it's okay, I guess. I just, I just don't feel like I belong, you know."

She stared, befuddled. "You disappeared many years ago. How did you get back to us?"

"I-I dunno. There was this monster planet and . . . well, you probably don't wanna hear."

"If I was not interested, Bumblebee, I would not have asked." Rusti insisted.

"Uh, okay. Well, there was this monster who could turn into a planet and it ate up planets. Me and Spike were on Moonbase Two and it came at us, ate the whole thing and we fell into it . . . and then I fell through the sky and landed here. Does that make any sense?"

Rusti raised her brows. "Sounds like you slipped in from another dimension, just like Roddi."

"That's kinda like what Perceptor said earlier."

Rusti felt sorry for Bumblebee. He was plucked out of a familiar place in history and thrown into another.

She wasn't sure what to say next. "What have they assigned you to?"

"Nothing."

Rusti blinked. "Nothing?"

He shrugged. "I guess they didn't want to pressure me into anything."

Rusti felt worse for him. The Autobots should celebrate his homecoming. They should see to it he felt welcomed: a long-lost part of the team. But survival came first.

"**Grrrr . . . NOT INTERESTED**!"

Across camp sat the Confiscator and in front of that snarled five angry Dinobots arguing with Ultra Magnus. Rusti shook her head. Magnus, well-meaning, as he was, did not have any idea as to how to treat the Dinos. "Come on," she invited. "You can help me save Magnus' face."

"I can?"

She took Bumblebee by the hand and dragged him across camp.

"**Me, Grimlock bite off your stupid head**!"

"Me, Slag, bite off rest!"

Magnus wore a contemptuous frown, arms crossed, resolute. From the corner of his right optic; he watched Rusti and Bumblebee approach.

Bad timing.

"I heard Grimlock shouting," came Rusti's mousy voice. "What's going on?"

"Insubordination." Magnus snarled.

Rusti blinked and looked to her playmates. "Guys, what's wrong?"

Grimlock, standing in robot mode, pointed an angry finger at Magnus. "Dinobots not work with bossy, pushy Autobots!"

"Me, Slag, not work with ANYBODY!"

Magnus looked ready to blow "There is a cruiser full of Autobots and Humans who cannot escape the canyon and we cannot make contact and you are ordered to come with me!" Magnus' optics grew hard. He was a wild boar ready to charge.

Grimlock shifted to Dino mode and opened his jaws.

"Uh, guys," Rusti intervened. "Can I say something here?"

Magnus and the Dinobots gave her their attention.

Rage marked Magnus' expression but Rusti knew he'd never do or say anything mean to her. She stared directly at Grimlock. "Um, you know, Grimlock, Magnus, Roddi and the other city commanders are not as good at the kinda stuff you guys do. You know; the lifting and pushing, smashing stuff. And um, I know Magnus can be a boring stiff. But what he's really trying to say is that he needs your help. Cuz you guys are heros, you know? And he needs heros to help him rescue the damaged ship and babies in it."

Swoop mourned. "Ohhhh . . . me, Swoop go help babies!"

Grimlock lowered his face to Rusti. Gone was the anger. "Me, Grimlock not know babies need help."

"Will you help Ultra Magnus rescue them, then?"

Grimlock remained silent a long moment, his chin stationary on the ground. "Me, Grimlock guess it okay to help weakling Autobots and rescue babies."

Rusti smiled. "You're a sweetheart, Grimlock." and she kissed his nose.

The Dinobot leader did not move for a long moment.

Rusti blinked.

"Can me, Grimlock, have another kiss?"

She laughed and kissed him again. The Dinobot Tyrannosaur stood and shifted to robot mode. "Come,

Slag. Come, Sludge, all Dinobots. We go, rescue babies." The Dinobots turned away to prepare.

Magnus knelt before Rusti and ever so quietly asked: "How did you know there were babies on board?"

Rusti gave a sheepish grin, earning a dubious acknowledgment from the Major-General.

Bumblebee piped up: "Um, U-Ultra Magnus, I-I was wondering-"

"I'd love for you to come along, Bumblebee. We might need someone who can squeeze into tight places."

Relief assailed the little bug's face. "Wish me luck, Rusti!"

The girl watched Magnus and The Bee head for the Sagittarian Mozart. She now felt very much alone and strangely enough: she even missed school.

That brought Cody's memory to mind and with it, the old emotional wound. Rusti aimed to return to the Sunset Kummya and waiting chores.

* * *

The wrestling sounds of scuffing, scratching and snarling caught Rusti's attention. She approached the Spiral Star and peeked round the port bow.

Six EDC officers struggled with Jasimine Goodwin-both of her.

"Let me GO!" she shouted. "I am NOT insane! But YOU ARE!! YOU'RE ALL THE DEVIL'S CHILDREN! YOU ALL ARE QUINTESSON SPAWN!" with a quick deep breath, she shrieked as though possessed. "I saw them eat you!

They'll eat you! Don't go to Bare Anches! I saw them SCREAMING! Their bodies swarmed with THINGS! DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

Dr. Arcanna drew a laser pistol and shot both Jasmine and Goodwin. The two went down, but one, Goodwin, fought the stun and trembled greatly. Arcanna knelt close to her. "I'm really, truly sorry, lieutenant Goodwin."

"You spit on my soul, you FREAK! You're a spawn of your god of science. Wait and watch. They'll mind-rape you! I know. I've seen it."

The Headmaster gravely examined her eyes. "Someone inform Duros and Captain Eastman we will have to incarcerate Mrs. Goodwin-both of her."

A large foot landed next to Rusti and she startled.

Turning, she swallowed air and cringed. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "I heard a commotion." she gasped at the sight of Monsterbot Repugnus.

"Found your DNA. Figured it was yours." The Monsterbot's terrible claw dipped and at the deadly tip dangled a slender silver chain and an Autobot symbol slowly swinging to and fro.

Rusti lifted her hands and received her long-lost treasure. "Thank you," she choked. "I thought it was gone."

"Stay outta trouble." He stomped away as she held the necklace close to her heart.

* * *

Magnus wished he could take Rusti with them for the sake of the Dinobots and their tempers. But Rodimus warned him earlier Rusti's exo-suit was damaged. The Major-General assigned Trinket to fix the girl's exo-suit and politely asked Cloudstreaker to join the rescue party. 

Surprised, delighted and bashful all at once, Cloudstreaker swept together equipment and stumbled over her words as she reported her assignment to Convoy. Ultra Magnus asked **her** of all femmes to accompany him. She paused in sudden self doubt. What if she messed up? What if she made an idiot of herself in front of him? Magnus was always so polite and considerate around her; and he was so good looking and practically a god among mortal machines.

The femme forced herself to calm down. It was a job, not a date. She needed to concentrate on the job, not on . . . Primus was this going to be difficult!

Convoy laughed at her and wished her luck.

Cloudstreaker disembarked from the 'Horizon, checking, double checking and rechecking her equipment and supplies. She paused a bit abruptly when a scanner bleeped strong one moment then quieted the next. She checked it a fourth time and wondered what made it do that.

Nothing indicated a source and Cloud shrugged it off as a fluke.

She joined Magnus onboard the Armored Crest where he, Repugnus, Bumblebee and Grotesque gathered about a projector table. Magnus greeted her cordially and invited her aboard. Monsterbot femme Doublecross shifted to robot form and scrutinized a 3-D map of the 50-mile radius around the Autobot camp. A forest of gigantic petrified trees clustered twenty to twenty-five miles northwest of the camp. Ten miles south lay an electro-magnetic disturbance. But their mission lay in the canyon on the other side of the forest.

Magnus tapped the canyon area twice and the map zoomed into the canyon, displaying an area crammed with huge crystals and the Cold Refractor sitting among them.

"This is where we're needed," Magnus stated. "We tried all morning to contact the Cold Refractor but something down there disrupts communications. The Aerialbots made several sweeps, but their navigation systems were affected by the same problem. That means we're going to have to do this the hard way. We're going to fly to the edge of the petrified forest and jump down in pairs. No monkey business. We don't know exactly what we're facing. Bumblebee, you and Repugnus will be first. Cloudstreaker and I will follow. The rest of you will team up. Grotesque, you and Sludge, Grimlock, you and Snarl, Crossy, you and Slag. Do not change partners."

Grimlock crossed his arms, "Not worry, Ultra Magnus. Dinobots go to save. Make no mistakes."

* * *

Bumblebee felt out of place. Too many strangers, not enough time to learn their names. The Dinobots, however, made him feel better by offering him a ride through the sky. The four of them (Swoop could not) quibbled over the privilege until Grimlock decided Slag would take Bumblebee out and Sludge would bring him back. 

"Me, Snarl, want to, too!" the stegosaurus whined.

Grimlock's optic visor flashed with momentary irritation. "Uhhh . . . you Snarl can take Little Bee if Sludge dies."

Sludge looked perplexed wondering how Grimlock knew how he was going to die. He shrugged it off and followed Grotesque to the sky.

After fifteen minutes aboard Dinobot Airlines, Bumblebee clearly spotted their destination; a grand forest of enormous (by Autobot standards) forest of petrified trees.

Slag landed with a thud. Bumblebee slipped off and stumbled about on unfamiliar ground.

Cloudstreaker and Doublecross gracefully landed nearby while Repugnus, Sludge and Grimlock 'hit the pavement' further south.

Bumblebee cast his optics toward the canyon. Thick, blotchy fog concealed the world below. A few crystal spires peeked above the cloud cover, giving the canyon an ominous feel. Cloudstreaker took a few readings then pivoted about and scanned the trees.

"This is bizarre," she said softly. "I can't penetrate the fog with my scanner, yet . . . it's not registering the crystalline, either. How did Swoop manage to get photos?"

No one answered.

Magnus joined the group as Repugnus and the Dinobots arrived. Grimlock and Repugnus gazed over the edge of the ravine.

"Mmm. Me sense funny things down there."

"Couple a' dead bodies, too," Repugnus concurred.

Magnus examined his rescue party of ten and turned to Cloudstreaker. "Report?"

"No readings on the fog below, Commander," she said. "And the crystals aren't reading, either.

However . . ." she turned to the petrified forest, "It seems these trees might be made of metal but not of a nature that I can tell yet."

Untouched by time, the trees lofted a solid half mile in height. Their trunks punctured the ground as if grasping the center of the planet by their roots.

Their branches stretched high and far before bursting into needles, like deadly silver daggers.

Magnus gazed up and down one tree before him. Not only did the trunk race upward, but shot past the metal covered (or glass?) ground beyond optical line-of-sight. "Repugnus?" he called, "can you see the roots of these trees? I've never seen anything like this."

The Monsterbot shifted from robotic to monster form

and his enormous head examined Magnus' tree first, then another before returning to root form. "Big trees."

"Substance?"

Repugnus shook his head. "Unidentified." He scraped the tree trunk, making an awful screeching noise.

Cloudstreaker cringed. Repugnus examined his claw.

"Nice metal. Let's send Prime a post card."

Magnus was not impressed by the Monsterbot's humor.

"Let's move on."

The rescue party followed Magnus' plan and separated into perspective teams. Repugnus and Bumblebee descended into the canyon first and disappeared into the fog.

Cloudstreaker offered to take Magnus down but he graciously backed out.

"I need a better idea of what we're up against, Cloudstreaker. Besides," here he reached into subspace,

"I brought a jet pack."

Cloudstreaker caught a glint of anticipation in the Commander's optic. She wondered if it was because he secretly loved to fly. A bit strange, she thought.

Usually 'grounders' don't like heights. She watched, puzzled, as Magnus strapped on the jet pack quickly and easily then with a running start, the Major-General leapt off the precipice, arms held out, legs tightly together.

Cloudstreaker stared. He was amazingly graceful in the air. Her laser core surged.

Grotesque sounded behind her: "We're waiting for you, Cloud."

"Oh!" she blushed and remembered she was Magnus' partner. The femme copied him: the running start and transformed to supersonic mode.

The rest of the group had no need for a jet pack.

But the fog bed lay so thick that visibility was dropped to sonar and internal communications. Repugnus and The Bee dropped like a pair of dead birds. At first Bumblebee thought Repugnus could fly. But when the Monsterbot did not deploy a set of wings, Bee figured he had a jet pack. But Repugnus did not activate one. Fifty feet shy of impact, Repugnus snapped out a strong set of wings and drifted along persuasive wind currents.

Bumblebee shut his optics until they touched ground. He trembled with surges.

"Love my job." Repugnus pushed forward, crunching hard rocky ground underfoot.

Bumblebee dashed after the Monsterbot who aimlessly stared upward. "I thought we were going to crash." Repugnus shifted to robot mode and smiled wickedly.

"I know."

"It's not funny!" Bumblebee pursued the wandering nuisance, expecting an apology. Repugnus did not answer. The Bee nearly ran into his companion when the Monsterbot paused in his tracks and stared up.

Bumblebee traced the direction of Repugnus' optics; a forest of giant crystals surrounded them like ancient monoliths. "Wow," he whispered. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Emitting low levels of radiation. Might be silicon life forms." Repugnus ignored Bumblebee's annoyed expression and examined the crystal's 'root rock'.

"yup. Silico-carbon with a good chunk of iron and some kinda oxide."

"Hey," The Bee called, "weren't we supposed to meet with Ultra Magnus?"

"What of it?"

"Well, he's not here."

Repugnus snorted. "You whine a lot."

"What's THAT supposed to mean?"

"Oh, need a translation? I can use little words."

Repugnus lowered on his knees. "Okay, little words: Uncle Ultra Magnus will be here soon. Don't be afraid. Uncle 'Pugnus will take care of you." he stood and glared at Bumblebee. "Did you understand that, or shall I use single-syllable words?"

Bumblebee did not get the chance to retort before heavy footfalls echoed through their portion of the canyon. Magnus and Cloudstreaker picked their way among the variegated crystalline structures.

"Repugnus, did something happen?" Magnus asked.

"You and Bumblebee are in the wrong place."

"Noticed that, didjya? So did the Little One here. Mewed on about it."

Magnus kept his cool but crossed his arms. "Next time you plan a detour, I'd like to know in advance."

"I'm sure you would."

Magnus did not appreciate the remark, but he did not have a come back for it, either. First the Dinobots, now this Monsterbot. He wished he remembered Repugnus' obstinate nature.

Cloudstreaker reexamined her scanner. "C-Commander, Ultra Magnus? I'm getting heavy carbon compounds and neutrino traces."

Repugnus tapped his ol factory node. "Crisped flesh. That's your carbon. Traces of charred metal. My guess is the 'Refractor's crew got tangled in a fight."

Bumblebee gasped behind Repugnus and retreated from the crystal, optics glued to its unmoving image. Then he neared it, entranced.

A humanoid appeared through a chemical fog within the giant crystal.

Bumblebee's words nearly caught in his vocalizer:

"Whoa! What is THAT?!"

Bumblebee and Cloudstreaker drew closer as the humanoid wriggled like a tadpole. A set of boney hands touched the inside wall and a face of tattered flesh cleared the fog. A set of sunken eyes, hollow with death, peered at them. Transparent skin revealed shrunken muscles, blood vessels and decaying bones. The deformed mouth opened and closed, attempting to communicate.

Cloudstreaker shrugged at Magnus. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm getting no life readings. At least, not **biological** life."

Bumblebee reached to touch the crystal wall but quick as light, Repugnus caught his hand. The humanoid faded into the mist inside the crystal and Repugnus let The Bee go. "Never touch what you don't know."

North of their position, Grotesque's voice bounced off canyon walls as he fed them a tall tale.

"There's our chaps, now!" the Monsterbot called.

Repugnus muttered something and slunk away while the lively Grotesque approached with a big grin. "I took all the kids on a field trip. Thought we'd pause a moment, check out the local wildlife." the Monsterbot winked at Cloudstreaker. "And it's lookin' pretty good from here."

Cloudstreaker smiled bashfully and hugged her digipad. But Repugnus frowned. "We're not here to play 'kiss 'n tell', Grotesque."

"Quite true. Quite true." Grotesque agreed quickly.

"Seems the local vegetation is a bit different . . . say, weren't we on a rescue mission?"

Repugnus growled, annoyed. He shifted to monster mode and stomped off. Cloudstreaker sent a final smile to Grotesque before following the Monsterbot. Bumblebee tagged before the rest melted into order.

Twenty minutes passed before Repugnus spotted a minute neutrino trace along the ground. He scanned then shook his head. "No readings."

Cloudstreaker attempted to verify his discovery:

"I'm finding the neutrino trace has been ionized."

Grotesque pressed forward. "It could be the reverse polarity synthesizers have leaked into the reintegration units."

Repugnus glared and turned away. "While you're busy pretending to be Perceptor, we'll move onward."

"You're welcome." Grotesque said in friendly tones.

But no one bothered to thank him. They progressed another ten minutes before they found the Cold Refractor. Miraculously, it was in one piece, not blown to shreds as they feared. No one welcomed them and no one came out of the vessel.

"What gives?" Bumblebee asked. "This is creepy."

Cloudstreaker advanced another twelve feet, her scanner ticked and she knelt. "Commander!" she called Magnus.

He approached and carefully squatted by the dead Human. "What happened?"

"It looks like radiation poisoning."

Doublecross, who boarded the Refractor, returned, bearing two digipads. "Looks here like the crew crashed with two Autobot casualties, Sir. Tech control Turnbuckle and engineer Locator are both terminated."

Magnus curtly nodded. "Crossy, I need air reconnaissance. You and Swoop-just the one hundred-yard radius. Bumblebee, scout inside. Grimlock, Repugnus, parameter watch. Whatever took the Refractor's crew might come back."

To Magnus' surprise, no one argued. He and Cloudstreaker investigated outside the ship, searching for prints or clues for struggle. Magnus shifted his optic sensors to penetrate the fog with mild success.

Ionized neutrinos puddled the canyon in blotches of acid pink. Dents and scars scuffed and discolored the ship. Autobot lifeblood smeared the docking bay and peppered the landing gear.

Grotesque hailed Magnus.

"Yes." Magnus accepted.

"Commander, it appears the Cold Refractor can still fly. Everything looks to be intact. The isometric balancing constructs are still in retentive positions and the navigational tri-lined upswings are functional.

I've even found the temploid . . ."

Magnus sighed as the Monsterbot technician yammered on. The city commander crunched over shattered crystalline as he rounded the ship, looking for external damage. Magnus stubbed his foretoe on the 'Refractor's starboard landing gear.

"Oh my." Grotesque cringed as Magnus spat a string of foul words.

Magnus kicked the landing gear with his other foot and danced once to regain control of his temper and suppress the pain. He was tired, irritable and impatient. The temporal storm had unbalanced his gyros and made him nauseated. He hoped this would be a simple mission: get in, get the ship out, get back. But no.

That's not how things worked. The only good thing to come out of this mess was Rodimus staying alive. Magnus vowed to kick Optimus Prime's aft for leaving them vulnerable like this. Prime did not have to go to Mars; not really. But the Autobot leader's damnedable irrationality had gotten the better of his sensibilities.

And if Rodimus dies . . .

"Commander?" Magnus switched his mood like a light as Cloudstreaker peeked round the ship's corner. "Is everything alright?"

He forced a smile. "Better be." He read doubt in her face but did not know how to offer her assurance when he had none himself.

Doublecross shouted incoherently seventy feet above them. Magnus leaped to Cloud's side as the Monsterbot fell like a brick. Crossy shifted to robot mode, landed on her strong, sturdy legs and fired four shots with her AC pulsator.

Magnus and Cloudstreaker turned in the direction of Crossy's target and gasped as a six-legged beast rampaged for them. Crossy fired three more times; accurate and well-controlled. But the creature split itself, head to tail and her shots snapped right between the two halves. It reformed, not missing a beat as it charged down the Autobot's paths.

Magnus leapt in front of the femmes, transformed and took on the bare brunt of the monster's incredible force. Locked grill-against-horn, Magnus spun his wheels but was no match for six legs of steel and claw that dug into the ground for added leverage.

From three o'clock of Magnus' position, Slag rammed into the beast's side. It toppled, rolling over like an inflexible toy.

Something else struck Cloudstreaker in the back and she fell flat but undamaged. She rolled as Crossy shifted to Monster mode and faced a gargoyle-like thing with large tusks and wings too small for its body.

It shouted at her and the Monsterbot gave chase.

Magnus transformed as the six-legged beast returned. But Slag beat the commander to the first punch by shifting to robot mode, drawing his own energo-sword and cleanly sliced the beast's head off.

"Ultra Magnus!" Cloudstreaker called. "Seven-thirty of your position!"

"What?" Magnus did not understand until it burrowed from underground and spat a stream of acid at him.

Magnus leapt just as the foul-smelling substance ate the area where he stood.

Two squared worms with twelve legs milled toward the Major-General and Cloudstreaker. They paused and their bodies conjoined, legs snapping together like Legos, forming one broad creature.

Crossy fired first with no result; whatever she dealt it bounced off its armor.

"No, no!" Magnus shouted, "it's armor-plated. Draw it away from the 'Refractor. We cannot afford to lose the ship! Cloudstreaker, stay with Grotesque!" Magnus turned to Doublecross and wordlessly pointed south.

Crossy nodded, shifted to monster mode and sprayed a barrage of fire and sonics at the creature.

The tactic paid off. To Crossy's amazement, the flat worm shot across the land as though it moved on ice. She raced among the forest of crystalline while Magnus dashed after the creature, dodging intermittent fire and fallen rocks between he and the worm. He could not transform and drive in such hostile, enclosed terrain.

With a great roar, Grimlock charged their way, barreling down the ravine like a mad thing. For a moment, Magnus thought the Dinobot leader and Crossy were playing chicken, but then Crossy shot up, flipped, transformed in mid-movement and landed behind Grimlock.

The T-rex rammed straight into the worm, squished its back with one foot and grasped the tail-end between his terrible jaws. He tugged while the worm squealed and spat acid, melting crystal, stone and flooring.

Grimlock snapped, tore and whacked at the thing as though it were a hot rock. The Dinobot won. Grimlock rent the thing apart and shattered the remains against a nearby stone.

Grimlock shifted to robot form and drew his sword.

"Me squish big bug. Who's next?"

"Good job, Grimlock!" Magnus praised.

Crossy dashed up and jumped once. "Wahoo! Very nice!"

Grimlock chuckled when she hugged him, but Magnus' attention fell from them when he caught sight of an Autobot stuck inside a crystal not far from where they stood. He bypassed his companions for a closer look and sure enough, recognized Autobot femme Tempra-his own former receptionist-inside the gas filled crystal.

"Tempra!" he called. She saw him and banged against the inner wall. She tried to speak, but her words remained caught in the world of her own prison. Magnus glanced about, hoping to find something with which to strike the walls. "We'll get you out!" he exaggerated his lip movements and she nodded, crouching and rubbing on peeling exostructure.

Magnus' first idea was to fire a missile at the structure, but then he could endanger Tempra; the gas within the crystal could be flammable. However, a weapon like Grimlock's sword might work. Just as the city commander was going to call Crossy and Grimlock, the two approached anyway, both staring curiously at the imprisoned Tempra.

"Is she okay?" Crossy asked first.

"I don't know," Magnus replied uneasily. "Grimlock, do you think you could use your sword to get her out?"

"Me, Grimlock give it a good shot." and the Dinobot lifted his energo sword, struck the crystal and nothing happened-except that his sword remained in place until all its energy drained completely. The sword tumbled to the ground, charred. Magnus, Crossy and Grimlock all stared at the ruined weapon.

"Uhhh . . . never saw that before." Grimlock remarked. He picked the sword up by the hilt and the rest of it fragmented.

Repugnus' sarcastic voice sounded behind the three of them: "It's silicon-carbon. It ate your toy up like gourmet zinc. Ya gotta have an opposite carbide to split that thing. I'm guessing tungsten with a bit of attitude."

Magnus stepped aside and crossed his arms, his expression set with dire impatience.

Repugnus threw him a grin, shifted to monster mode and sliced a claw through the crystal. Tempra fell to the ground in hysterics, screaming and clawing at her exostructure. She convulsed like a fish out of water and no amount of yelling, no sort of order or reason would get her to calm down. Magnus finally hauled her up, lapped her over his shoulder and carried her back to the 'Refractor. Tempra screamed and wept all the way back.

Once in the infirmary, Magnus, Crossy and Cloudstreaker searched frantically for an electro-sedative. Magnus found one and handed it to Crossy while he held Tempra down. It took three minutes for the treatment to take hold but it was effective and Crossy stepped back, muttering about hoping she did not give Tempra too much.

Tempra shuddered until Magnus found a thermal overlay and covered her with it. He sat beside her, waiting for rationality to take hold. "How long were you in there, Tempra?" he asked quietly.

She shuddered again with a fresh intake of oxygen.

"Uh . . . I don't know . . . seems like days. My chronometer says it was seventeen hours."

"What happened? Where are the others?"

"Um, those things came and flew off with most of the crew. I thought for sure they were going to kill all of us. They . . . they vaporized six EDC officers and the Madinite children . . . oh, Primus, they were just children!" and she started crying again.

Magnus waited for her to collect herself before asking another question: "What has happened to Tektonix? He was captain. What did they do with him?"

He fought them, that I saw. They . . . they tried to take off with me but someone shot that thing; it split-oh, Primus, it split in half and -and I thought it was going to swallow me up! But it fell, instead and I tripped . . ." Tempra shook her head and turned away, shivering from overload.

Magnus chose to leave her alone. Crossy shook her head. "She'll be like that for a while, Commander.

Chances are, she'll not be rational for at least another day or two."

"I think, Doublecross, the Refractor's crew aren't dead; just held prisoner somewhere in this hole in the ground." It was not something Magnus wanted to think about. He did not want to go on a scavenger hunt only to find the crew terminated. The Major-General stood, fighting weariness. "Alright. Here's what we'll do: Snarl and Sludge will stay with the ship. I'll assign Grotesque to keep an eye on them and Tempra while the rest of us move out. Crossy, you, Grimlock and Repugnus will scout ahead, but stay within communication range.

I am not in the mood for picking up Autobot fragments."

* * *

As Swoop flew silently above them, the Autobots traveled into a broader section of the canyon. To the west, the gorge curved inward so that the walls hung over. Tuffets of plant life with swollen leaves nestled in the crannies of the overhang. To the right rose a sheer wall yawning far above so that it disappeared into the fog. Magnus did not like this area but he said nothing to the others. He noticed, however, that Cloudstreaker stepped closer and ran into him twice upon the slightest sound. 

"I'm sorry, Commander," she rasped.

He graciously smiled. "Any other readings, yet?"

She shook her head. "Just . . . weird stuff . . . feedback and erratic temperature differences."

Magnus paused, aware the others kept moving. He measured their walk at about two-thirds of a mile by now. They should have encountered something more than one Autobot trapped within a crystal. Where was everyone? If they were destroyed, there should be evidence. But not so much as a scrap was to be seen.

It was not, however, for another half a mile before Bumblebee called Magnus' attention to the sheer cliff.

Magnus wound around several crystalline structures and found Bumblebee crouched at the foot of the wall.

"I found another drop here." Bumblebee slipped his hand into the smooth wall where it disappeared. He pulled it out, undamaged.

"A hologram?" Magnus guessed. "Why didn't it register? How large is it?"

"OW!" Cloudstreaker grasped her left shoulder and bowed over in pain. She checked for damage and sure enough, something melted past her armor.

"What happened?" Magnus asked.

"I don't know-"

"Ow!" Bumblebee followed, "hey, that hurts!" he grasped his lower right arm.

"Let me see that." Magnus ordered. Bumblebee's armor was also compromised in a small area not much larger than the tip of a pointer.

Something did the same thing to Magnus's torso, leaving a burned line where it rolled down.

"Acid rain!" Crossy gasped.

"Everyone," Magnus ordered, "look for an opening!

Swoop, get down here, now!" he knew it was too late to make a run for the Refractor. If nothing else, they could try to squeeze under the overhang across the way, But Magnus worried the rain would simply soak the ground and attack them from that angle.

"Me, Slag find good place!"

Crossy and Bumblebee proceeded first as Swoop landed. He and Slag went in after followed by Grimlock and Cloudstreaker.

Magnus turned to Repugnus. "You're next."

"You go, first, Maggy. I'm the tough customer here."

Magnus shook his head, but appreciated Repugnus' offer. He ducked through the wall, following Cloudstreaker. Repugnus slipped in thereafter and the group heard the rain burst, pelting the world and melting or burning everything under it.

"Magnus to 'Refractor. Can you read me, Grotesque?"

"Aye, Commander. Clearly enough. But uh, we have acid rain right now; there's enough juice in the Cold Refractor to keep her shields up. Is everything alright?"

"Peachy." Magnus growled. "We've been caught in the rain, too but we've found a cave. Hopefully the storm won't last too long. See if you can contact Rodimus."

Using only their scanners, the group descended twenty-two steps and landed into a wide cavern.

Doublecross reexamined the stairway. "This place must be exceptionally old to be here. What do you know about the planet, Ultra Magnus?"

"Nothing. This was Prime's idea of a rendezvous."

Bumblebee clicked on a light and he, Cloudstreaker and Grimlock all gasped. The Bee drove his flashlight from left to right, illuminating a world of partial images and ominous shadows.

Repugnus fired a magnesium flare and enlightened the underground world, revealing a great cavern fashioned, chiseled and painted into a giant laboratory. Several operating tables stood side by side surrounded by working tables, counters and shelves gaping with missing equipment.

Crossy chanced the first few steps. The minute her foot touched the lab's flooring, the place lit up bright as day, startling everyone but Repugnus.

Crossy glanced over her shoulder. "Guess they don't use light switches here." she offered an apologetic smile when Magnus shook his head, silently warning her about touching anything. Bumblebee and Cloudstreaker descended the stairway and Magnus started to follow then thought about the Dinobots. Investigating anything here could prove disastrous.

He turned to Grimlock. "Grimlock, will you, Swoop and Slag mind watching the entrance while we look around?"

The Dinobot glared at him. "Me, Grimlock and other Dinobots curious, too."

"I know," Magnus carefully answered. He quickly thought of Rusti's tactics in handling delicate Dinobot egos: "But um, if one of those alien creatures comes back, I'd rather they confront you guys than . . . than Cloudstreaker."

Grimlock's face remained hard but when his optic visor settled on Cloudstreaker, he relented and uncrossed his angry arms. "Me guess we stay here."

Magnus took the floor himself and critically examined the room. To the left, a long dark hallway veered out of sight. Chains and cuffs dangled from the right-side wall, posted by small plaques marked in Decepticon writ. He heard Crossy mutter to herself about materials left in a trash can while Cloudstreaker quietly scanned the room. Bumblebee disappeared into an adjoining room, his flashlight zipped back and forth in a lightless world.

Judging the operating tables, cabinets naked of equipment and the chains empty of victims, Magnus got the unwelcome feeling of a haunting past. Not that he himself ever experienced time in such places, but he knew someone who did. He did not want to know what sins scientists committed here and the sooner the party left, the better. He turned to Repugnus. "Is it still raining outside?"

"Yup. Wanna take a tour?"

Magnus shot him a sharp look and turned away.

Cloudstreaker followed her scanner's reading ten-thirty of their initial position. Out the corner of her visor, Magnus examined a line of operating tables. She watched as he peered into the ceiling as though searching for a murder suspect. Following his scrutiny, Cloudstreaker winced when highlights and shadows outlined a ceiling not only of floodlights, but of tools, laser slicers and forceps, injecting devices, scanners, restrainers and other nightmare-inducing equipment.

Magnus stared at the collection with disdain before examining the underside of each table.

Cloudstreaker thought it disturbing that he seemed to know what he was looking for and where to find it; like the tool drawers that opened from both sides of each table.

Unwilling to watch further, the femme trained her attention to the hand-held scanner, now reading activated power sources in three directions. One such source registered directly in front of her.

Cloud stared at a panel lining the wall corner of the left side corridor. Neither markings nor controls indicated an opening.

Magnus and Crossy discussed the biological elements of a dried puddle beside a table. Out the corner of her visor, Cloud watched as the Major-General pointed to discolorations in the puddle, the inconsistencies of thickness and variation in its make. Cloudstreaker realized she was staring at Magnus rather than attending her own job. Magnus caught her stare.

Flushing, she hid her visor, hoping Ultra Magnus was not offended.

Magnus left Doublecross to the puddle puzzle and attended Cloud's mystery. "Did you find something, Cloudstreaker?" he politely asked.

"I-I can't be sure, Commander." She stammered.

Fortress Horizon's second-in-command politely took a step back as the mech examined the panel himself. He too found nothing extraordinary about the corner.

He gazed at Cloudstreaker. "What readings did you get, Cloudstreaker?"

"Um, some sort of activated power source, Sir. I-I think Doublecross triggered it like the lights, Sir. But um, I can't seem to figure out how to, um, open the panel.

"I see." Magnus thought for a moment. "Oh, use a sonar detector, Cloudstreaker. Maybe it's hollow."

She smiled, impressed with his idea. Programming the pad for an output, Cloud waved the scanner up and down until three lights flashed to indicate a change in chamber integrity. "Here." Cloud set the scanner in to subspace and retrieved a sonic key. She carefully pointed at what was a visual blank space and waited for the key to attain just the right frequency. The seam appeared and a two-foot portion of the panel slid up, revealing a secret, well-lit compartment. Inside stood two old digipads and a vial of clear liquid.

Magnus removed one digipad, handed it to Cloud and examined the other himself.

With an extra glance at the vial, Cloudstreaker trained her optic visor on the ancient digipad. She tried to activate it but time seemed to have diminished its core. Without another thought, the femme settled on the dust-strewn floor, took out her own datapad and set the two pads next to each. She laid one hand square on hers, left hand on the relic and transferred energy from one digipad to the next.

The artifact came to life as Magnus squatted before her shaking his head. "I've never seen anyone do that."

Cloud silently smiled, her face plates burned with embarrassment. She timidly offered to take his pad and do the same. Magnus watched, pleased with his decision to bring her along. He took back his pad and settled on the floor with her, pouring over files and images with dates that meant very little to him. The Major-General shook his head. "What do you make of this, Cloudstreaker?

Surges shot up and down her infrastructural rod.

She loved how he said her name! "Um, a-I'm guessing it's a journal, Sir. Or-or r-rather a pair of them."

Geeze, she sounded like a bumbling idiot around him!

"Oh?" Magnus asked as Doublecross joined them for a look, "Of what?"

She turned her pad around for Magnus and Crossy and the city commander gawked. The face of a Quintesson displayed clearly on the screen.

A single-faced Quintesson turned to the 'audience' and Crossy snorted. "Not a pretty sight. Turn the page, would ya, Cloud?"

"Riiight." Cloudstreaker grinned at Crossy's humor.

"**Day 24 on experiment number 119**. The Rigilian conjunction links are proving a more tedious task than originally considered. Subject number 3509 continued to annoy us with his insignificant curses until General

Gar Sor'Aruth had lost all patience and fed him to the crystal entities outside. If nothing else, the crystal plants are well fed."

Crossy grunted. "Sounds like the Quint is talking about those crystals outside; the same ones that trapped poor Tempra."

Cloud thoughtfully paused the presentation and stared at the Monsterbot. "Do you think the Quints could have made them?"

"Not likely. The Quints can twist things, or copy-cat. But this one-faced moron just said the crystals were alien. Seems more like the Quints either encountered them on accident and transplanted them here, or the crystal monoliths grow here naturally."

Repugnus beeped Magnus over the comlink. "Magnus. Might be in'erested in this new decor Bumblebee's lookin' at."

Magnus frowned. Cloudstreaker and Crossy followed him to an adjoining room in the right-hand corridor from the stairwell.

Charts, calculations and calendars etched in glass stood framed on the floor in groups of four. In the center of the room, propped like a showcase doll, stood a metal endoskeleton. Magnus, Crossy and Cloudstreaker stared at it in both confusion and revulsion.

"Fascinating," Crossy finally peeped. "Grotesque would love to see this."

Bumblebee handed Magnus a small digipad. "Yeah. Well, it doesn't look anything like the standard Transformer endoskeleton I've ever seen."

Repugnus smirked. One endoskeleton was pretty much like another. He noticed even Magnus was under-impressed.

The city commander fished through the digipad's information. "This seems to indicate the skeleton is not indigenous to Cratis." he shut the pad off.

Repugnus grunted. "If you ask me-and I know yer not-it looks like that IS the critter."

Bumblebee piped in as Magnus stared at one glass panel, then another. "Yeah, well, it gives me the creeps. How about we see if the rain has stopped?"

Magnus fingered a second panel as though he did not hear The Bee's comment. "What's all this?" He traced a series of numerical equations and formulas that looked vaguely familiar.

Crossy's optics passed over a colored glass panel while Cloudstreaker recorded. The Monsterbot femme shrugged, unable to guess. "Notes of some sort."

Magnus read a series of complicated formulas. Someone was calculating solar equinox and the behavior of Cratis' electromagnetic fields. The Major-General's optics followed the end of that equation to another set of facing panels. Careful analysis and six rotations offered clues of a planet with an unstable E.M. field.

Another sheet of glass, etched in Decepticon writing, diagramed the cycles of an unstable star and the resulting erratic electrical turbulence. The formulas concluded in the possibility of negative and positive ion storms. Magnus' astronomy background told him the star around which Cratis revolved was so hyper-active that it was possible life on Cratis could have been disrupted several million times throughout its history.

Whole civilizations must have been wiped off the planet's surface during the sun's worst prominence cycles. And according to the charts, Cratis was about to be hit with another series of electrical storms.

Cloudstreaker stood next to him, recording the data while Repugnus kept staring at the exoskeleton.

Bumblebee and Crossy quietly discussed a panel written apparently in poetry.

"Ultra Magnus?" Crossy called.

"Yes."

"You can read Decepticon writ, can't you? How is it that most of this stuff is written in Decepticon but it appears Quintessons were here?"

"Can't answer that, Doublecross, sorry." he tried to measure the distance between the sun and Cratis to determine how long the Autobots had before the first storm hit.

"Sir?" Cloudstreaker almost whispered.

"Hm?"

"I'm . . . I seem to be picking up readings . . . like . . . under us."

"DOZ . . . KRAN," Crossy tried to pronounce the first word. "What's that mean?"

Repugnus turned away from the skeleton. "That you're a dork for trying to sound out Deceptanese."

If Crossy could have, she would have stuck a tongue at him.

"Enough, both of you." Magnus ordered as he traced coordinates to an unknown planetoid.

Just to spite Repugnus, Crossy tried another word, "Whunk. Ruungk, ruungk soyy-"

Magnus recognized ruugk: the word for 'open'. His optics darted at her. "Crossy, enough!" he ordered sternly.

Repugnus taunted her. "Yup. Better do what he says. You might damage what few circuits 'r still functioning in yer cranial chamber. Oh, and if you ever need help countin' those few, lemme know; the Dinobots are good at counting to three."

Indignant, Crossy picked out another word that sounded as close to a dirty name as she could find, "you're just a splagrok, Repugnus."

Faster than the Autobots could react, all the glass panels slid across the room and formed a single line.

The floor fell out from under Magnus and Cloudstreaker.

Doublecross grabbed Bumblebee and leapt to the doorway.

Repugnus stayed very still, standing on what was now an island surrounded by a floorless room.

Magnus contacted water and for several seconds, he was too mad to swim back. He got a grip on his anger and paddled to the surface where he half-hauled his bulk upon a rocky shelf. "They never argue when Optimus says to do something. They even obey Rodimus. But when **I** say something, they have to ask **twice**. They have to ask **why**. Sometimes they don't even bother with **that**."

Magnus half-snarled, half-mimicked in a high-pitched voice, "**Golly, Ultra Magnus, how come I have to do such and such or why shouldn't I do this or that?**" Magnus answered himself quietly, using his own leveled voice: "It's very simple. But listen carefully: I tell you to do things because I'M YOUR GODDAMNED CITY COMMANDER AND I SAID SO!! CROSSY! YOU'RE GOING TO DO MAINTENANCE FOR THE REST OF THE GODDAMNED VOYAGE!"

Cloudstreaker plunged through darkness and slammed into shallow water. Freezing sharp objects pierced through her legs in five places, pinning her underwater. Spires stood about her, most of them just at the reach of her fingertips. Flaying about, the femme struggled to gain control of her body. Pain shot through her legs and forced her to fall still until she tried again. But Cloudstreaker could not lift her legs free of the stalagmites.

She twisted her body about, struggling to sense the world around her. She found her digipad approximately three yards down. She tried a sitting position and managed to break above the water's surface, but the movement tore several connectors.

"Magnus!" she cried. Pain forced her back and she floated there, helpless until another idea came: she hauled out her pistol and blindly aimed for the nearest spike. The shot hit the mark, but it was not a clean cut. Cloudstreaker fired a second time with better success.

She tried to sit once more but only managed a third of the way. Something snapped inside her right thigh.

Pain snaked from her legs to her chest and forbade further movement. Frustrated, Cloud tried to relax.

She could not transform; the ruptures in her legs jammed three weight retraction instuds, preventing transformation.

Muffled thunder boomed through the water. A set of large hands slipped under and tried to lifted the femme. She broke the surface again and struggled against crying out. The same hands that raised her, laid her back into the water.

She laid still, certain it was Ultra Magnus.

Three bright sparks lit the dark world for split moments, revealing a rounded cavern glittering with colorful stalagmites and stalactites. Bubbles fizzed across Cloud's vision as Magnus' weapon raised the water's temperature.

Two spikes just above her knee broke. One above her ankle shattered and another fell out her left thigh.

Her body sank toward the bottom and she twisted, reaching for the fallen data pad. She grasped it just as Magnus carefully extracted her. Instinctively, she clung to her rescuer, shivering with onset shock.

"Ultra Magnus," she whispered.

"You're okay, Cloudstreaker. Are you badly injured?"

"I don't know. Are you okay?"

"Ask me again when we get off this planet." Magnus trudged out of the pool and set her against a nearby wall. He shot a flare lighting their little world. The suspended light revealed a ghastly collection of glass monoliths, perfectly straight and frosted with cold.

Cloudstreaker gasped and covered her mouth as they beheld the Refractor's crew suspended within the cases.

Magnus set his face grim and examined each glass case in turn. Wavelength. Granite. Pontiac. Tundra. Neon. Stratus. Fineliner. Several EDC officers and six young children. All imprisoned. All in stasis. Or so Magnus hoped. He searched one end of the cave to another for a release mechanism.

Cloudstreaker roused from low-level shut down when Magnus returned. He set down a box of scavenged items and settled in front of her. "How are you? How are your legs?" he asked quietly.

"Well . . . they hurt." She tried to laugh, but failed. At least she could smile.

"Can you walk, Cloudstreaker?"

"I . . ." she flushed, "I don't think so, Sir. I'm sorry. You'll have to leave-"

"Don't even think of it." Magnus opened the metal box and produced two small energon cubes: one for each of them.

Guilty over her dilemma, Cloudstreaker could not ingest anything. She rolled the cube between her hands, wishing for better circumstances. "I'm sorry, Commander."

"For what?" Magnus gave her a light smile. His manner relaxed as he settled on the floor with her.

"Not your fault, Cloud. But a certain two-headed female Monsterbot will do maintenance for the next two days."

Knowing his reputation as Fort Max's drill sergeant, Cloudstreaker smiled. No doubt Magnus already had special plans and times set up for Doublecross. She turned the cube about two more times before finally deciding to eat.

Ultra Magnus kept glancing at the glass monoliths.

She followed his optics from one to another and doubt filled her. "Ultra Magnus?"

His large optics caused her laser core to skip a vibration. "Even if you were to get them free, how will we get out of here? We must have fallen a good hundred feet or more."

Magnus shook his head as the light above them dimmed. "I don't know. Yet."

She stared hard at him, nervous.

Magnus smirked. "You worry too much, Cloud. Even if I have to make Repugnus and Doublecross dig a tunnel down here with their bare hands, we **will** get out. Don't worry."

She smiled again, grateful for the reassurance. He stood with a deep breath and stared down the path lining between the glass monoliths. Their only source of light snapped out, abandoning them to darkness.

Magnus moaned and muttered something to himself before shooting another flare into the air. "Repugnus!" he called both aloud and through the comline. "You'd better make sure someone is doing something up there besides fine tuning their terminal textports!"

"Calvary's coming. Sooner or later."

Cloudstreaker suspected, however, that Repugnus was lying on his back, literally twiddling his thumbs. She wondered what buttons he'd try to push with Magnus before the Major-General would burst. Magnus let out a breath and rested his forehead against Neon's glass case.

"I need a vacation," he muttered.

The air fell thick with silence. Cloudstreaker kept wondering if she could just hobble along, but she knew the damaged instuds connecting her joints could not support her body weight.

Magnus suddenly snapped out of his lethargy. "Wait a minute! Cloud! Do you have those two old tablets with you?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Out with them. I have a feeling they're more than just journals."

She handed him one and held the other and they poured through the tablets. Cloudstreaker could not make heads or tails of the script and kept shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Ultra Magnus. I'm not finding anything."

"Yeah, well . . . you were not held prisoner by

Quintessons for several years."

She drew back, surprised. "You . . . you were a prisoner of the Quintessons?"

He smiled, but did not look at her. "Among other things. There's . . . a combination here I'm going to try. But I'm not sure if it works on the stasis tubes or not."

"Commander, what if those things that brought the 'Refractor's crew come back?"

"I'm sure they will, Cloudstreaker."

"But-"

"Listen," he rebutted sternly but gently, "We don't have time for fear. Now I've found something here and I'm going to give it a try. I'll be right back."

Embarrassed, Cloudstreaker silently nodded and Magnus left for the other end of the chamber. She sat there quietly until she decided to try deciphering the other tablet.

Magnus wandered between rows of free-standing glass cases. Not all of them were used; some were damaged.

Magnus' second flare sputtered and died. He growled and twisting round, shot a third one. One left, he thought. Grotesque had better come up with something.

Or, Magnus hoped, he himself would find an answer. Just as he turned from the forest of cases, he found a stairwell dipped further underground. Gazing right then left, the city commander decided the stairs was the best option.

"Cloudstreaker?" he called.

"Commander?"

"There's a short case of stairs . . . I'll keep in touch." he did not wait for an answer and descended to the next level. The moment his foot touched the floor, lights shot on, not only in the room he entered, but in the chamber. The room opened before him like a scientist's dream come true. The real laboratory wasn't above in the cave, but down here. Computers, testing equipment, cages and a huge view screen lined or stood about the room. A table large enough to restrain three subjects at a time stood under a canopy of equipment.

Magnus guessed the first room was only a showcase for Quintesson customers. What pleased the Major-General the most was a small teleporter at the back end of the room.

Magnus smiled. He beat Grotesque to the solution.

* * *

"Finding the teleport is peachy as cream," 

Grotesque greeted Magnus when he and Cloudstreaker 'beamed' to the top. "What about the crew? Have you-"

"Nope," Magnus's voice was upbeat. "That'll be your job. I think, however, we might rang the front doorbell. I'm sure the Refractor's abductors will come." He carried Cloudstreaker to medbay and turned to Doublecross. "See if you can do something for her, will you?"

"Sir?"

"I have Dinobots to round up." Magnus brusquely headed for the door, paused, spun about with a finger pointing upward. "Ah, Doublecross, see if you and Grotesque can get this thing going, would you?"

Again, he did not wait for an answer-positive or otherwise. Magnus headed outside where the Dinobots hung about the ship like a group of bored kids. Magnus gathered his resolve, "Alright. Grimlock, I need three of you guys downstairs to help me free the 'Refractor's crew, and two of you guys up here with Bumblebee to keep an optic on things."

"Uh . . . what things?"

"No surprises. They're going to come back-the same people who took the crew."

It amazed Magnus that the Dinobots were still willing to cooperate. Sludge and Swoop remained up top while the other Dinobots descended below. At first Magnus thought about being delicate regarding the glass cells. But after taking life readings, he figured the best way to procure the crew was to let the Dinobots have at it.

And they did . . . a bit too well. Magnus had to get Snarl and Slag to calm down and simply tear the doors off when they attended those cases containing organics.

Tektonix came to, lying on the floor next to Fahren. He tried unsuccessfully to sit upright.

"Hey, Tex, how's it going?" Magnus greeted.

Tektonix groaned and covered his forehead and optics with his right arm. "You speak like a damned American, Magnus. It's good to see you."

"What happened?"

"Whole damned ship wobbled like it was made of water or something. Couldn't control it. It –we crashed-" he stared at the city commander, "-**three times**, Magnus. Sounds crazy. But I remember it; we crashed straight into a mountain. Then we crashed

again, but it was into a city. Then it was this rot hole. Lost two of my crew. We um, we stepped outside to look around, hoping to get in contact with you and Prime and we were ambushed. Never seen them before. Did you know there were creatures out there that can split themselves in half?"

Magnus nodded. "Bumblebee told us he knew them as Pretenders."

"Who? Bumble-did you just say Bumblebee?"

* * *

Magnus did not want to get into the explanation end of things. He helped Tektonix to his feet. "Come on, let's get you out of here." 

No sooner had Magnus and Grimlock guided fourteen Autobots back to the Cold Refractor than Swoop and Bumblebee sounded the alarm.

Magnus quietly swore under his breath. He ordered Swoop, Snarl and Doublecross to get the rest of the crew onboard. Doublecross started to protest.

"WE'LL DISCUSS IT LATER, CROSSY!" Magnus spat.

The ship rocked, dragging Cloudstreaker out of another state of light sleep. Doublecross had temporarily patched her instuds, but the damage required finer work than a bandage. She sleepily gazed left of her flat as Bumblebee assisted an injured Human into the bay. "Bumblebee?" she asked, "what's going on?"

"We have visitors and they're trying to attack the ship."

Cloud sat up on her elbows as Doublecross assisted Pointblank into the bay. "How many others are there, Crossy?"

The Monsterbot shook her head. "Too many to make a fast and easy escape, I'm afraid. Don't worry. The Dinobot boys will keep 'em off us a while longer."

Cloudstreaker watched Crossy leave the ship for another Autobot hostage and decided it was time she acted like a second-in-command.

Grimlock was two-for-two and working on a third Pretender.

Sludge clashed with his: he rammed his fist into the first thing that assaulted him then tossed it aside like a used soda can.

Magnus wrestled hand-to-hand with his opponent.

Four arms and two huge legs kept the city commander dancing like a marionette.

Repugnus dealt with a flier, cussing so that it distracted Snarl. Snarl's adversary took full advantage and kicked the Dinobot so hard, Snarl slammed into the Refractor's rear port. Slag ran toward his brother, slid into the hard gritty soil, transformed and shot Snarl's enemy first, then his own.

Four-Arms grasped Magnus round the waist and threw him against the canyon wall. Two alien canine beasts lunged Magnus, tearing at his exostructure. They peppered gashes along his arms.

One canine crumbled, sliced in half by Repugnus. Magnus kicked the second one off and sent a rocket into its side. It blew to shreds and he stood, shaking.

Four-Arms and a more gruesome two legged thing-all fangs and claws-inched their way toward the two Autobots. "Grotesque!" Magnus called through the comline. "Is everyone onboard YET?!"

"Um, yes. But we can't get out."

Four-arms charged with a boisterous shout. Magnus impacted a kick straight to the monster's chest. But when the Major-General moved, All-Fangs leapt and grasped part of the city commander's upper chest.

Repugnus swung a claw for a nice slice at the head, but the beast turned and they tangled claws and jaws.

Bleeding, exhausted and battered with pain, Magnus forced himself up. "NOW WHAT'S WRONG?!"

Cloudstreaker, who managed to get to the bridge under her own power, gave Grotesque a doubtful look.

The Monsterbot cringed when Magnus spat several unsavory words and fired his weapon.

"Um, Sir, the 'Refractor's neutrodon anti-grav boosters were damaged by temporal flux. Three of them simply phased out of existence. The Cold Refractor can get up over the canyon wall, but I can't get her started."

Cloudstreaker swiveled her seat toward Grotesque.

"I have an idea."

Magnus heard the suggestion and figured the poor girl was either delirious with pain or just crazy. But when twenty-six more Pretenders poured from canyon walls, crazy looked good.

Cloudstreaker, Crossy, Swoop and Magnus struggled to keep the Pretenders off the ship while the other four Dinobots, Repugnus and Grotesque surrounded the 'Refractor. Bumblebee and Britania gave the signal: all engines were go.

Magnus kept close to Cloudstreaker, giving her as much protection as possible. She concentrated on all power sources in the immediate area; the underground laboratory, the crystals and the Pretenders themselves.

She opened her subspace conduits and drew it all in. Every ounce of energy available without touching the Autobots or the 'Refractor. Even what she could gather from daylight she amassed into a fine point.

Then she radiated the power into her companions like breathing onto a dandelion. She concentrated, filtering energy so as not to overload anyone's receptacles.

Cloudstreaker did not see the Dinobots and Monsterbots glow with the increase of power. Repugnus laughed, stimulated in a way he'd never felt before.

Grimlock gave the command and all eight heavy-weight warriors lifted the ship with no more trouble than if it were made of cheap plastic.

Those Pretenders caught up in Cloudstreaker's subspace conduits fell like dead husks.

Once off the ground, the ship's engines kicked in.

With an incredible push, the Autobots shoved the Cold Refractor as far up as their combined strength allotted. The 'Refractor tilted just a bit but made it out of the canyon and safely upon the precipice.

Cloudstreaker found herself enveloped in Magnus' great arms and swung around once. He let her go before she realized what just took place. Shocked, she stumbled back, her expression vacant with surprise.

A huge grin plastered over Magnus' face. "Good job, Cloudstreaker!"

* * *

As tired as she was, Rusti thought she should drop dead as soon as she hit her pillow. Three breaths and her mind already shifted into dreams. Daniel yelled at her.

She was late to school.

Homework.

Where was Optimus?

Optimus?

She opened her eyes as their 'drill sergeant' chastised two boys for arguing. EDC officer Lustervich appointed herself babysitter over everyone past the age of four. She was the slave driver every Quintesson feared, or so the day's joke went.

Rusti wondered how she could squirm her way out of 'Ms. Listerine's' domain.

The lights snapped out, the door closed. Half-muttered comments of contempt followed the sudden silence. The boys took less a liking to their task mistress than the girls.

Rusti allowed herself to drift again. Ration meals were cold. The planet stank.

Where was Optimus??

HE CANNOT LOVE YOU! YOU THINK HE'S SOME KIND OF GOD OR HERO-SOMEONE WHO WILL RESCUE YOU FROM ALL YOUR PROBLEMS-

SHUT UP! Not your concern.

. . . not your con-

Rusti's eyes snapped open. She was awake, but nothing looked familiar. Wait. Think back. That part of the ceiling looks familiar.

A ship. Okay. The 'Kummya.

She groaned. The worst day in school was better than being here.

One girl screamed, then another. The door flew open, lights snapped on, glaring in everyone's eyes.

Moans and complaints followed. Rusti tried to sink further under her blanket but it was too hot.

Ms. Lustervich darted for the two screaming girls, demanding to know what was wrong.

Nightmares.

The girls blathered between tears, making little to no sense. Strangely enough, their dreams did not reflect the attack on Earth or the death of a parent or a loved one. Something about a great room, needles, voices . . . awful voices.

Rusti tried to shut them out; think of Optimus Prime. Rusti knew she was still young. If her father knew, if he ever found out . . .

"ALL RIGHT, KIDS. UP AND WITH IT!"

Everyone moaned, groaned and stretched.

"COME ON! UP!"

Rusti sat up feeling as though she had not slept once all night. She gazed at the room filled with nameless peers. Lucille bound her dark hair up. Cuts and welts marred her smooth face and Rusti wondered where her acquaintance was working to get so scratched up.

"Davison? Marc Davison?"

"Here," came a reluctant reply.

"You're to report to the Genesis and work with Crosshairs. Mindy Gormes?"

"Here."

"Report to the Saber's Claw to Brainstorm. Kessler Andblim and Troy Bronston?"

Silence.

"Andblim and Bronstron?" the 'drill instructor' craned her neck to find the faces to the names. But she honestly did not know one child from another and skipped to the next name:

"Rusti Witwicky?"

"Here."

"Report to Autobot Trinket on the Interrogator. Everyone else dress up. Hit breakfast immediately. Today we clean the Trench Driver."

Moans and groans followed while Rusti attended her shoes, tied her light jacket about her waist and beelined off the 'Kummya.

Even in the morning, Cratian air filled her lungs with warm, unsavory smells. More people occupied the grounds this time of day than yesterday afternoon. More materials and supplies passed between ships and vocal 'buzzing' filled the air with jokes, shouts and more than occasional cursing.

Rusti boarded the Interrogator and immediately flattened herself against the nearest wall. Two lumbering Autobots backed toward the entrance/exit hauling out an entire control panel between them.

Arcee/Daniel followed closely behind and Rusti froze, daring not even to breathe.

Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down, she pleaded inwardly.

"Oh!" Arcee called. "Corner, ten o'clock of your position, there, Titanium!"

"Got it."

"No, no! Tip down. Little-okay, it's through."

"Didn't know these things weighed so much," Autobot Physix complained. "Where's a Dinobot when you need one?"

"At the other end of the planet, hopefully." Arcee/Daniel snarled. "Plank, Physix. Keep it slow."

Rusti thought everyone could hear her heart as it pounded. Her cheeks burned and her legs tried to melt from under her. But the second Arcee/Daniel disembarked, the girl dashed.

Arcee heard the patter of footsteps, but could not determine whose they were. Her optics lit suspiciously, but the next second, her/Daniel's attention returned to the two mechs.

Rusti explored the Interrogator with an insect's eye. The Sunset Kummya was readjusted in several levels to accommodate the smaller refugees but the Interrogator was not. In fact, the Interrogator was refit for weapons repair. Everything from forward cannons to faulty torpedoes to Targetmaster spare hand guns-and all their spare parts-littered the ship on shelves. Racks above those contained tools and every room Rusti passed had an open doorway.

"Hey! Bit lost there, li'l lamb?"

Rusti gazed left and up into Hotspot's optics. She blushed. "I-I was told to report to Trinket, sir."

"Didn't give you directions, did they? Guess they expected you to know. C'mon. I'll take ya that way."

Rusti followed the Protectobot leader to a large lift and hung on. Twice her eyes peered at the Protectobot leader, his face plate and general configuration. She wished he were Optimus Prime. Rusti closed her eyes, her heart aching.

"How you doing?" Hotspot's gruff voice bounced around the lift.

Rusti's eyes shot open as though roused from a dream. She shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

"Yeah? How's the young ones?"

She hesitated, not sure if he meant the babies and toddlers or all children in general. She hazard a guess that he meant all the children. "They have nightmares, Hotspot. It's hard to sleep."

He stopped the lift, stared at her then knelt on one knee. "That's not good."

She shook her head, looked away and embraced herself.

"You gettin' them too, Li'l Lamb?"

Rusti felt funny over that pet name. "I . . . I miss Optimus. I just . . . feel lost."

Hotspot nodded and upon standing, resumed the lift.

"I think we all do, Rusti. We all do."

Hotspot led her into a wide, well-lit room sectioned into thirds. The center section steamed with a basin of hot water and another with hot oil. The first section they entered was crowded with equipment, tools, vials, work tables, microscopes and along one wall hung white coats.

The final section of the same room contained energon cubes and more vials of unknown fluids. Two Autobots quietly conversed in the third section while two Autobots bent over a small component, taking turns with laser tools.

Nearby the wall of coats, a femme slipped into a coat and from a compartment in the wall, produced a digipad.

Hotspot approached her and Rusti followed. "This n's Rusti, here, Trinket. She tells me she had t' report t' you t'day."

"Oh?"

Rusti flushed, hoping she heard the 'drill instructor' correctly.

Trinket gazed into her digipad and nodded. "I guess so. Says that Ultra Magnus wants me to . . . fix . . . you have an exo-suit?"

Dropping her jaw and glancing from Hotspot to Trinket, Rusti stammered, "Uh-yeah. I do. It was damaged-"

"But ya don't have it with you."

"I'm wearing it."

Hotspot and Trinket gave the girl doubtful looks and to prove it, Rusti undressed in front of them and unlatched the damaged suit.

Trinket held the comparatively doll-sized suit between her hands and glanced from it to the girl and back. "How did you-where-? I was expecting something more like Daniel's-er-your father's suit."

"Optimus and Roddi gave it to me when I started playing football with the Dinobots."

"You gotta be kidding!" Hotspot almost laughed.

Trinket smiled in agreement and stood straight.

"Well, at least I can take a break from the Hannibal's hyperdrive."

Rusti sat upon the counter top, legs dangled over the ledge. She figured it was at least an hour by now.

Trinket removed burned and damaged parts within the suit Rusti did not know even was there. Perceptor entered the room at one point and set three crystallized boards at one table. He hovered over Trinket's work and asked about it. The femme pointed to Rusti who waved.

Perceptor offered a weak smile in turn. He aimed for the door when he abruptly paused, glanced again at the girl and aimed for the third part of the room. He returned with two trays in hand and set them next to Trinket.

These aren't inventoried yet . . . I suspect they'll give you exactly what you need, Trinket."

The femme looked to him, then to Rusti, back again and then to the suit. She smiled so that Rusti thought she tried not to laugh.

Two hours rolled into four. Rusti dozed. She thought she heard the school's five-minute bell.

Students bustled through the hallway. Mrs. Tau waited at the door, counting heads.

Feet shuffled, papers rustled. A test due in history. **Name the treaty between the Autobots and Saudi Arabia and describe.**

Rusti woke her neck stiff and joints sore. She tried to recall the answer when she realized it no longer mattered. Saudi Arabia like the rest of the planet, was now enslaved by Quintessons.

Equal opportunity enslavement, Rusti thought sourly. The Quintessons had no respect for anything.

"Here you go, Rusti. Try it now."

Rusti examined the suit once then tossed her clothes off and gave it a good fit. The suit slightly shifted, adjusting to her body's specific shape. Rusty activated the power source and waited for a strange noise or disturbing feel of the suit against her skin.

But when nothing happened, she tried to access the subspace pocket. To her delight, she retrieved her helmet.

Trinket rinsed her hands and dried them with a lint-proof cloth. "How does it work?"

Rusti wasn't sure. She sealed the helmet over her dry hair and activated the shield. She tuned in to the main Autobot comline. Communications came and went between Autobots and EDC officers like a news office.

The girl shrugged. "Seems to work just fine."

Trinket nodded. "I added six new cells and a new power adaptor with greater capacity in heavy environments."

Rusti gave her a blank expression. She eyed a small trash can nearby the exit and concentrated the suit's power into a single focus. Pointing at the can, she fired a low-frequency burst and seared a hole in the side.

Rusti smiled, satisfied. "It works fine."

Two of Kup's security boys clashed into the room, anxiously pointing weapons at every nook and cranny.

Trinket had to explain three times that it was a test and no damage was done.

But security was less than happy with Rusti and they let her go with a stern warning.

Rusti left the Interrogator feeling badly about the situation. She meant no harm and was careful to use low-frequency firepower. But everyone was edgy.

Everyone was cranky. Everyone was tired and homesick and the girl admitted her actions were of poor judgment.

Apologizing sometimes never felt it was enough to patch up a bad moment.

She started on the road back to the Sunset Kummya when Rusti paused and realized she did not want to go back. Certainly she was still 'child' by some standards, but she was adult enough to know the 'drill sergeant' was less than fair to the others. A large hand gripped her shoulder so hard, Rusti almost fell to her knees in pain. Tears blurred her vision and she swallowed a scream.

"What are you doing?"

The familiar authoritative voice sent chills down Rusti's back. She gripped her left shoulder and tried to breathe. Through blurred vision she faced her father. He stared down, an angry warrior bearing a deep frown formed by the lip components of his face mask.

"I'm talking to you, Resonna!" he snarled. His fists clenched and flexed. "What are you doing? Everyone's working . . . EXCEPT YOU!"

"Nothing." It was the wrong thing to say.

A deafening whack preceded pain. Rusti lost her balance and hit the ground, lower back first. Her exo-suit shot on, protecting her from the worst of the fall. She was not wearing her helmet and regretted it. Daniel's foot landed too close to her face.

"Everyone else is contributing to our survival. And while you're off playing Autobot princess, the rest of us are slaving away in hopes of returning to Earth."

The shock of the moment kept Rusti from answering.

She had been struck before and the shock of the moment still paralyzed her. Tears traced her cheek, hot with throbbing pain.

"Are you listening to me, Resonna?!" Daniel demanded.

"Yes," she whispered.

"What? I can't hear you!"

"Y's . . ." her chest heaved and more than anything she wished Optimus Prime were there.

Where was he?

Her nerves sat on edge. Feebly Rusti stood and would have just walked away. But excited by the sensation of power and control, Daniel grabbed his wayward daughter by her thick red hair. He half-dragged her toward the Spiral Star, ignoring her pleas and weeping. Daniel also resolutely ignored on-lookers, many of whom stared in wordless shock. Gort, standing next to EDC Captain Summerston, quietly spoke into the comlink.

Rusti slapped Daniel's metal arm repeatedly to no effect. She tried to wrestle away. He yanked her hair so hard, she thought he tried to snap her neck. When they reached the ally between the Razor Lady and the Spiral Star, Daniel let go but gave her a bruising back-handed slap.

Rusti struck the ground shoulder-first. No matter what kind of an asshole he was, Daniel had never physically attacked her before. This was not like school where the perpetrators were other boys. This was family: an outright rejection of an estranged relationship. Unable to get up, Rusti covered her face in shame and distress, weeping bitterly. She heard his footfalls step just inches away and she rolled her body into fetal position.

"Stop," her little voice barely rose loud enough for her own ears.

Daniel decided he was not done.

But Rodimus was. His super-annoyingly cheerful voice called through the air, saving the moment: "DANIEL! Can I have a word with you?"

Breathless, Rusti lowered her trembling hands. Her eyes jumped from her mad father to Rodimus. Now was the time to leave.

Rodimus waited until she disappeared then crouched before the indignant human who crossed his arms and stared defiantly. "What do you want, Rodimus?"

"Well, Dan-o, I thought I'd confide in you about problems I've had with a growing temper-you know-the kind that gets people hurt? And, see, I seemed to have a thing for Rusti. . . I'm attached to her."

Rodimus held his chin between thumb and finger and gazed toward heaven in deep thought. "I have no idea why. Maybe it's cuz I raised her? Maybe?" he set his face a bit too close to Daniel for the Headmaster's comfort. "The point is, Dan-o, we're no longer on Earth, ergo, not entirely subject to its courts. The other point is my temper is growing shorter all the time and it's not a smart idea to test my self-control. So I'm going to do you a big favor, Dan-o."

Daniel stared at the Autobot leader, daring to say nothing.

Rodimus thought that was smart: "I'm going to pretend I did not see you slap your daughter. I'm going to pretend you haven't been around her at all. See, I'm being a nice guy about it. Cuz, Daniel, if I DID see you slap her, I might have lost my temper and . . . well, seeing how you're just a little bit smaller than me, you might have ended up like a wad of gum under my boot. Squished."

Rodimus drew even closer so that all that filled Daniel's vision were his blue optics, lit up and meaningful. "Got it?" Rodimus concluded.

"Yeah," Daniel kept his voice icy, defiant. "I got it. Gum."

Rodimus dimmed the upper edges of his optics, a bit pleased. "Say 'Golly, thank you, Roddi'."

"Thanks, Rodimus." Daniel's echo did reveal a bit of fear -enough to make Prime withdraw with a grunt of satisfaction.

* * *

Rusti searched for a dark out-of-the-way corner to crawl into. She berated her own cowardice-why didn't she strike back? She could have-and rightly so! Pain masked her face with heat and her skin felt like it was bleeding. 

Confused and exhausted, she boarded the Vertical Horizon and snuggled into the darkest, smallest space she could find. She knew in a few more hours all 'children' were to be in bed. But Rusti did not care how much trouble she'd be in, she was NOT going back.

* * *

"Repairs are coming along smoothly. The Spiral Star is fully functional now. The 'Horizon's repairs will be finished by tomorrow and Hannibal's Mark will be ready by the time Magnus gets back." 

Rusti stirred as another voice spouted off a list and ended it with "We need the Dinobots."

Rodimus spoke next, though he sounded far more solemn than usual. "News from Magnus?"

Jazz: "Not a peep 'n three days."

"Not surprising," Kup piped in, "Chances are the source is jamming transmissions."

City commander Convoy said something in turn and Rusti peeked out. All the city commanders and Rodimus sat around a make-shift table. Kup, Blaster and Perceptor sat closer to Roddi. The group of Autobot officers softly laughed at some incident Convoy described with body language.

Lifting a blanket someone laid over her earlier, Rusti started to venture out of hiding. Rodimus dropped his left arm, snap his fingers and shook his index finger, sternly indicating she was not to move.

Rusti acquiesced and silently slipped back into the little compartment. Near the blanket, she found a bottle of water, a rations packet and a small pillow.

Roddi's face turned dead serious. "That leads me to a subject I've danced around long enough. We need a solid plan, people. We need to decide what our next move will be if Optimus Prime does not arrive."

Convoy stared at him in surprise. "He DID say to rendezvous here, Rodimus."

I know, Convoy, but we also need to prepare for the possibility we may never see him again. I need input.

Like the Centauri ambassador said, we need allies. As fugitives, we are targets looking for predators. I don't know if we can even take Earth back at all."

His words hung heavy. The thought that Optimus might be gone forever burned Rusti so that she choked silently and wept into the blanket.

"We have some good allies," Kup slowly answered.

"But I don't know who'd grant us refuge from those gadget-hacking, power-jacking, slander-sopping Quintessons."

Again they fell silent, lost in the thoughts of their people's potential fate. Rodimus sighed and observed each officer. "Well, here's what I'm looking at: we're here to rendezvous with Optimus Prime.

Chances are good and not so good. If he gets here, our chances of survival would certainly improve. But what if Optimus Prime never shows? We need to choose what to do from there. And I'm gonna be brutally honest with you guys, eventually, the Matrix Virus will kill me."

The air in the room fell cold with despair. Convoy and Jazz looked away. Kup stared at Roddi, sorrow etched lines into his face. Gryph remained emotionless.

"In that event, Roddi continued, "We need to plan. There needs to be a chain of command. There can be no doubt for direction or purpose on your part. The survival of the Autobots depends on your every move and what I want from the six of you is a list of ideas.

Surrender to anything or anyone is not an option. And listen to me when I say you can't surrender your freedom. If we die as a species, we die with dignity."

That gave Rusti chills and left a rock in the pit of her stomach. Their situation was grim and Rusti wondered how the Autobots managed to remain so calm.

She snuggled in the corner again, fingering the ring about her finger and wondered if it wasn't a good-bye present from Optimus Prime. As her mind shut down, Rusti vaguely considered taking off on her own to find him. She did not think how absurd the idea was, she knew he HAD to be out there somewhere . . . somewhere.

* * *

Rusti woke again with a deep breath. Her eyes and swollen face hurt. Her shoulder ached. She tried to loosen the muscles, but pain kept her still. With an inward moan, the girl ventured to the light and found the room all but empty.

Rusti had forgotten she was on the 'Horizon bridge.

Rodimus lay asleep at the table. A small stack of digipads lay about him. Rusti stole one step and the Autobot leader sat up and with a twist about the waist, popped his central infrastructural rod. "We need a deck of cards."

His joke did nothing for her. "Roddi . . . you sounded like something bad is about to happen. Do you think something's happened to Ultra Magnus and the others?"

"Nah." Rodimus took to his feet and paced a bit. "I don't want you to worry about it, Lady Friend. How do you feel? I almost pasted your father on the Spiral Star. He's lucky I did not want you to see me do it."

Her heart ached from rejection and worry. Then Rusti gave him that annoyed expression he fell in love with a lifetime ago. "A bit LATE for that, Roddi. I'm already worried. I'm tired and . . . homesick." she swallowed another bout of tears.

The Autobot leader plopped into the navigation chair and swiveled in it for a moment then stopped and bent over, elbows on knees, face drawn and guilty, optics squarely on her. "I know, Rusti. I know. And I know you're worried for all of us. Where I came from, there are no more Autobots. No more Decepticons. No more Cybertron. No more Matrix. It's all gone."

As empty as Rusti already felt, surprise no longer affected her. Puzzled, she wrapped her arms about one another when her shoulder reminded her of the attack.

"What happened, Roddi?"

Rodimus did not answer right away. His lip components turned down, corners tight. His fingers laced together, head bowed then lifted but heavily.

"That same monster, Unicron." Roddi stared out the viewer past Rusti, the long look of pain crossed his features. "I was very young at the time. But I remember watching from an asteroid how this . . demon sliced up Cybertron . . ." Roddi sat back, his optics fully on the girl again.

'Anyway, we lost our home. Then an alien entity devoured the Matrix. The Decepticons simply self-destructed. They chased us for quite a long time but they turned on one another like starving piranha. We were reduced to forty-five sparks, . . . twenty, . . . thirteen. Optimus Prime died due to . . . complications.'

He shot his optics back to the viewer and looked uneasy. Rodimus stood, paced a moment, turned from the girl and wiped his face plates of moisture.

"And . . . it's all happening again." Rusti surmised. "-except it's the Quintessons rather than Unicron." He did not answer, did not need to. Rusti guessed there was more to the sad story; more regarding the other Optimus Prime.

"Roddi, what do you mean Optimus died of complications? Was he injured?"

Rodimus could not look at her. He stared at the pilot panel wall then through the right viewer screen.

"Well, yes. We were all damaged. Parts were scarce and energon was more so." he laid a hand behind his helm and turned back, staring at her a bit wild-eyed as though he had a secret long since kept. "Optimus was pregnant."

Rusti forgot to breathe. Her jaw dropped, her eyes shot wide. "What?"

"We thought it was a last gift from the Matrix."

Rodimus choked again and sat down, staring at the floor. "I'll never know if it survived." He stared at his hands and cupped them as though holding a small spheroid object. "I'll never know."

Rusti's heart ached for her own Optimus Prime. She choked on her grief but could not cry. Rubbing her aching shoulder, the girl mournfully turned away.

Roddi sighed. "Don't worry, Lady-Friend. We'll give him as much time as we can. I'm leaving no one behind."

Rusti tried to smile with swollen cheeks and Rodimus took to his feet. "Come on. Let's get you to a doctor before I go off to kick your dad's ass."

Rodimus trailed the girl and counted himself blessed to be adopted into another Autobot society. But Ambassador Koontah was right. Without allies, the Autobots did not have a prayer for survival.

* * *

"Well, I'm not a doctor, but according to this scan, you have deep-tissue bruising and some bruising to your ligaments."

Rusti met the double-pupil eyes of Zornoy, an extra-terrestrial medical intern from Fortress Sagittarius. She had smooth dark skin and thick hair tightly bound in a large braid wrapped upon her head.

She smiled only with her lips, refusing to display double rows of blunt black teeth. "The good news is that nothing's broken."

Rusti felt funny. Her skin tingled almost like an itch but not enough to need a scratch. A bath sounded positively delicious about now. A plate of pancakes stuffed with fruit and whip cream sounded even better.

_What is it, Rusti?_ Roddi softly Touched.

"The air feels funny."

The alien intern drew back before treating the nasty bruises marring Rusti's face and arm. "Eh?"

A commotion sounded from the other end of the camp. The second Zornoy finished, Rusti raced outside and just barely made out Ultra Magnus' towering shape. He, the Dinobots and the Cold Refractor landed outside the ring of Autobot shuttles. Rodimus followed her example, transformed and raced to greet Magnus, Tektonix and the Monsterbots.

Magnus waded through the welcoming crowd, grateful Bumblebee took up the audience's attention. Repugnus and Tektonix slipped off to report their accounts to Rodimus.

Magnus carried Cloudstreaker to the med tent as First Aid met them and ordered people away from his patients.

"Wow! Looks like you stepped into a bad patch of astro-cactus, there, Cloudstreaker." Cloudstreaker cringed as Magnus laid her on the flat. "Big thorns, First Aid."

Magnus smiled. "I'll be back to check on you, Cloudstreaker." And he departed, leaving her core in a flutter.

Rodimus and Kup met Magnus half way to the 'Horizon. Roddi gave him a pleased smile while Kup punched data into a digipad.

"You're a bit early, Magnus," Roddi chirped. "Not that I'm complaining, really."

"I don't like to be late." Magnus replied in kind as they boarded the 'Horizon and joined Repugnus and Grotesque.

Rodimus remained unmoved as the three explorers reported their accounts. News of the abandoned lab disturbed the Autobot leader, but Roddi still said nothing until Repugnus told of their fight with the Pretender shells and final escape. "That's not good." Rodimus understated. "Why would the Quintessons build something like that then abandon the whole project?"

Kup's face lined with bitter old memory. "They've been known to do that, Rodimus. Possibly it was a failed experiment."

Roddi frowned. "Decepticon presence of any kind only speaks of trouble. Kup, I want a complete report on all current repairs and a new time schedule. Magnus, I know you're tired, but I'd like you and Jazz to take Silverbolt and head out to Concentric City and see what news you can find there. Keep it brief. Repugnus, good work and if you don't mind, I'd like greater detailed reports later."

Just as Rodimus ended his sentence, the room flashed with intense light. The view screen displayed an oncoming storm and another flick of lightning lashed the ground some miles away. Kup dashed to the ship's sensors and took a reading.

"Great spark of Primus! It's an ion storm!"

Magnus gaped. "Rodimus! I meant to tell you: we found a calendar in the laboratory that shows Cratis has ion storms on a regular basis-"

"SHUT THE POWER!" Rodimus ordered. Kup hit the emergency switch as a sphere of light hit the port, shaking the vessel.

* * *

Rusti sat and stared into a cooking fire while other people milled about, talking of nothing. The Dinobots were weary from their trip to the canyon and had long since retired to the Hannibal's Mark. Perhaps it was just as well they could not play. The Cratian sun-or whatever it was the passed for a light source-was waning and soon everyone would be forced to sleep through nightmares. 

Two hours passed while Rodimus, Magnus and other heads of staff discussed the situation in the Vertical Horizon. Rusti suspected Magnus' party found more than just the Cold Refractor and her crew.

Her skin kept tingling, prickling like tiny sparks of electricity zapping her.

"Hey!" Lucille settled next to Rusti on a makeshift bench. "They've made omelets. Want some?"

Rusti eyed the plate with scrutiny and recalled a joke in school about powdered eggs and old spam. She supposed that when she finally got hungry enough, even fried ants would taste good. A distant grinding noise drifted along a stiff breeze and Rusti stood, her instincts shouted for her to take cover.

"What's wrong?" Lucille asked with a sip of water.

"Let's . . I think we need to get the little kids inside . . . now."

Lucille shrugged. "Why? Not bed-time ye-"

The first bolt struck the Vertical Horizon and the echo alarmed everyone. The camp fell dead silent. That was when Rusti spotted Arcee walking with Hotspot from the Razor Lady. The girl swallowed air and frantically searched for a place to run.

The sound of a screaming banshee forced every Human to cover their ears. Rusti thought to dash for the 'Kummya. She tried to get Lucille to follow but paralyzed by fear, the other girl merely sank to the ground, weeping.

**ZHWAP-BOOM!! **

**SSSEEEEER-KA-BOOOM!! **

Dirt and ash choked the air with smoky, bitter smells.

People scattered in every direction, grabbing children or each other. Then grinding thunder hit, setting teeth on edge and raking the nervous system with sonic shock. Rusti fell as her whole body spazed and trembled from the low-pitch tones. The ground buzzed like a container stuffed with angry bees. Once it passed, she raised herself on shaking arms and spotted Arcee heading right for her.

Two more screaming energy globules shot through the sky. One slammed into the ground and blazed a hole in the dirt. The other hit Arcee in the head, forcing the Headmaster femme to flip flat on her back. Then a second shot hit the femme in the chest.

Rusti could not breathe-she clasped her hands tightly to her chest, wondering if she had just witnessed her father's death.

The world swirled about her while the ion storm scattered people in a panicked disarray. Rusti felt nothing as Duros swept her up and carried her into the 'Kummya.

* * *

All refugees outside the ships stampeded for cover. Disks and spheres of lightening smashed, skittered and slammed the camp. Horrible screeching sounds erupted as the storm cracked overhead, billowing head-grinding vibrations. 

Hotspot ushered Arcee and two girls toward the Hannibal's Mark. Half the way, a disk of energy rammed him square in the back. The girls screamed and ducked under Hotspot's fallen form. A disc slammed into Arcee's head before she could transform. The Headmaster femme flipped backward and a second disc struck, shorting her entire system. Arcee wreathed and screamed then lay dead still, her optics leaking dark fluids. Four more spheres hit the camp, one just barely missed Sideswipe.

And then all fell quiet.

Autobots and Humans hugged the ground, many counting limbs and living comrades among them. Trinket found Arcee while Sideswipe carried Hotspot to First Aid.

She scanned the damaged femme, refused to believe the readings and scanned again. Out the corner of her optic, Magnus and Rodimus raced toward her. The femme doctor stood and shook her head. "I don't know if Arcee was able to shut down into stasis in time."

Rodimus was about to take Arcee to medbay himself when eight people simultaneously called in damage reports.

"Crappy week we're having," Prime growled. "Take care of her, Magnus. Keep me informed." And he left to handle a billion emergencies.

Magnus assisted Trinket, carrying Arcee to the med-tent. A long line greeted them and Magnus pushed his way through, following Trinket straight to a flat. He laid his friend on the table and stepped back while two assistants flew to Arcee's side.

The Major-General watched with trepidation as the medical team removed Daniel. Emergency calls shouted from other sections of the tent. Toward the back wall, assistants attended Hotspot. Some poor child screamed while the intern performed emergency surgery.

Magnus hoped for immediate news but a few minutes turned into half an hour and one Autobot officer after another asked for Magnus' assistance. Forced to duty, the Major-General departed, requesting updates over Arcee's condition.

By that evening, most ships were easily repaired; the storm left only superficial damage.

Four hours after sunset First Aid finally reported to Roddi. The Autobot physician handed Rodimus a cup of high-powered energon, brought him just inside the med-tent and kept his voice down.

"We can't repair Arcee." He mourned. "All the microlink circuitry has been fried beyond repair. We--"

First aid cast his gaze upon the ground, unable to finish.

Rodimus about panicked. "Is she dying? Is she gone?"

"No!" First aid looked up. "I don't mean Arcee herself. I mean as a Headmaster."

It took Rodimus a moment to grasp the concept.

"Well . . . can't you just . . . put her back the way she was before our encounter with Nebulos?"

First Aid shook his head. "Rodimus, that's the ONLY thing I can do."

"Then do it." Rodimus ordered. "For Arcee's sake," he added with much quieter tones.

The ion storm left the camp quiet of conversation or activity. Rodimus felt total exhaustion from everyone he encountered. With all the bad events, the stress smothered his people. He ordered all repairs to cease, all logs entries to terminate. A fatigued army cannot defend itself.

Rusti sat and stared into the fire. Her fleeting thoughts melted into one another, shaping no particular concept.

Was her father dead? She knew she could go find out. But Rusti did not care enough. Her head dropped and her eyes fell upon her now-tattered jeans.

The warm air stank. Oh but for one short burst of rain! Just a few minutes of beautiful, sweet, clean, cool rain!

Arcana made rounds among the Humans and aliens. He asked the condition of one lady, apparently pregnant.

He asked group of boys if they were okay. Then he laid an arm across Rusti's shoulders and spoke. But Rusti could not answer.

He forced a cup of water between her hands and lifted her chin, directing her eyes to look at him. With a trying smile on an old, war-weary face, the doctor examined her. "How are you doing, Rusti?"

She knew it was the second time he asked. She did not care. She did not care about anything. She wanted to tell him how much she missed Optimus Prime. She wanted to go home. She wanted the rain to fall.

"Get some rest," Arcana ordered. He left to attend a cluster of men standing a few yards away.

Rusti stared at the cup of water. She drank two mouthfuls before dropping the cup.

All that water was gone, now, soaked up by a filthy, dry ground. The cup was STUPID! She snapped and kicked the evil cup into the fire.

"I HATE THIS FUCKING PLANET!" she screamed and stomped into the fire to crush the cup, heedless that her pants were catching on fire. Arcana leapt over the group of boys, grabbed Rusti from the fire and carried her to the Armored Crest as she screamed, enraged. They gave her a sedative and a comfortable place to rest. As they covered her, Rusti wept until she fell asleep.

* * *

Rodimus, Kup and the city commanders worked long into the night. They set watch around the camp as bit by bit, everyone turned the lights off to rest. 

Depression infected the entire camp. The ion storm left them exhausted and hopeless. Rodimus prayed that with a bit of rest and some good news, their spirits would lift enough to press forward another day.

He visited the med-tent several times during the night and into the following morning. Arcee rested from numerous surgeries and Daniel slowly recuperated but the doctors reported he had said not one word since learning of his separation.

Rodimus only faintly understood. Hot Rod had lost Sureshot many years ago and the loss was painful, but Daniel and Arcee's level of dependence was far deeper than that. Bonded, was the word that came to Roddi's mind. Prime suspected things with Daniel were bound to get very ugly; already he treaded the edge of insanity.

* * *

A drizzle of warm, smelly rain met the refugees the following morning. Mothers and guardians forbade the children from leaving the shuttles, fearing the stench of death from the rainfall was more a contaminate than real water. Moods in the camp ranged from somber to outrage as chronic depression affected every man, woman, child, Autobot and alien. People barely moved or spoke and some could not so much as get out of bed. 

Even the children lay or sat docile with sad eyes and somber faces.

Rodimus rested a good three hours before relieving Magnus. He toured the camp, before turning to the med-tent.

"I can't say for certain what exactly caused these moods, Rodimus," First Aid poured Prime another potent drink. "We can't afford to stay like this much longer."

"No," Roddi agreed and sipped the doctor's concoction. "Isn't there something you can mix or make to alleviate this epidemic?"

"No." First aid slumped himself. "Everyone is affected, it's just a matter of how much."

"This is serious, Aid. There needs to be something that can counteract the depression."

"Rodimus, the imbalance was caused by a negative energy source-a powerful one." Aid shrugged. "If you had a positive flow equally as powerful, you could correct the imbalance.

Rodimus' first inclination was to turn to the Matrix for help. But he dared not touch it for fear any disturbance might awaken the sleeping virus and make matters worse.

He wordlessly left as First Aid checked on Hotspot's condition. Rodimus sat next to Arcee under a dim light. She lay resting after a final surgery. Her pallid color concerned the Autobot leader and he hoped it was due to shock, not from failing systems.

What was their situation now? Was he going to watch his people die all over again? At the moment, hope seemed as faint and grey as Arcee's color.

Rodimus hunched over in the chair, chin on fists, elbows on knees. His optics faded to darkness and his mind swept back to the last few hours at Fort Max.

He should have died. By every law of physics and mathematical probability, he should have died. And taken Rusti with him. But something intervened . . . or Some One.

"Hey . . . no sleeping on the job."

Roddi's mind wandered back to the med tent and Arcee's bedside. She stared with weary optics and a forced, exhausted smile.

As tired as he was, Roddi's laser core leaped with joy. His face brightened. "Good morning, Precious. Sleep well? Need breakfast in bed on a silver platter?"

Arcee struggled to stifle a laugh, "Shut up."

THAT was the Arcee Hot Rod remembered! How long had it been since he heard such a great come-back? Roddi freely grinned. "How's it hanging, Arcee?

Arcee sat up, "it's not." The femme's countenance fell a bit serious. "What's going on, Rodimus? Why am I here?"

Roddi scrutinized her. "Notice anything different?"

She took her turn scrutinizing him. "N-n-n-n-o. Except you have a nasty scratch on your chest plate and a dent in your right shoulder-"

"I don't mean ME! YOU!"

"Oh!" she took a moment to do a self-diagnostic then shrugged her shoulders. "Power's down by thirty percent. It seems my quartex-zeta chips are damaged."

If Arcee had been human, Roddi would have accused her of being either ditzy or mentally negligent. In either case, he grinned, choosing to let the femme discover the situation for herself; it's funnier that way, he mused.

That was when her head shot up in instant realization. Her optics glowed bright, her mouth dropped. "DANIEL!" Her hands patted her head then dropped to her chest. She touched her thorax and her shoulders. "He's GONE!" Rodimus! What's happened to me?! Is-is he . . "

"Daniel's still alive and well in this reality, Arcee," Roddi's tone was anything but excited or relieved. "He's in one piece, but Trinket tells me he's bitching worse than an old crabby woman. It's done, Arcee. It's over between the two of you. You can start dating again."

The femme visibly shuddered and slumped against her head rest. "What am I going to do? Where do I go from here?" she seemed lost at the moment, a captive now set free without a personal sense of direction or cause.

Roddi stood when he sensed Magnus coming for him.

"One day at a time, Arcee." he answered deadpan.

"That's how we're all doing it. One minute, one hour, one day." he turned as Magnus slipped between the privacy curtains. "Hey, Mags. Bread 'n butter."

Magnus gave Rodimus a quizzical look as the Autobot leader departed. The Major-General slightly shrugged over Roddi's silliness and took the seat at Arcee's bedside. He offered her a slight smile, hoping it did not look trite.

"How's Cloudstreaker?" Arcee read the discomfort on the city commander's face and knew it would be hard for him to start the conversation.

She was right. Magnus was grateful for the request of a progress report. "Much better. I visited her earlier today. Funny, though. She asked about you, too. Trinket and Apogee were able to replace most of the damaged plates. Her legs are functional, but she'll be in pain until they can find materials to replace some retraction instuds and explatums."

Arcee's heart went out to her and Magnus thought the look on the femme's face was angelic. He wanted to take her hand but only started at it. "How are you, Arcee?" His quiet voice barely filled the room and the depth of it comforted the former Headmaster femme.

Arcee herself examined the Major-General, almost counting the number of dents and scratches over his chassis. She took in the weary but determined look of his self-disciplined personality. Strength amid exhaustion. Determination in the face of hopelessness.

She saw that strength and decided to make it her own.

Like Prime and Rodimus, Magnus was a rock, unmoved, steady in adversity. Unlike the two Primes, however, Magnus was free of the emotional burdens of their society. It made him free to love.

Arcee straightened her back. She too was free to love. "Primus put us together: Daniel and me. Now my obligation is fulfilled. I am free."

* * *

The light faded toward evening. Rodimus made rounds about the camp, taking notes on needed repairs, supplies and those most heavily affected by the ion storm. He considered giving the Autobots one more day of rest. Then they HAD to get moving, even if it was just to pick up debris. As Roddi knew too well himself, depression left unchecked was a sure road to suicide. 

From the southeast heading, Roddi's internal sensors indicated someone closing in at high speeds. Music, loud and obnoxious, hailed from the moving target and words from an old acid rock group vibrated more clearly with each passing moment.

It was Jazz with Blue closing on his bumper. He drove through camp (at higher speeds than permitted) and twenty feet from Roddi, Jazz smoothly transformed and waited for Blue to catch up.

"Heya, R.P.! We gotta a thing or two ta show ya, here. Blue?"

"We found traces of iridium phosphate about twenty miles from here, Commander. And this:" from subspace, Blue withdrew an old laser pistol, clearly marked with a Decepticon insignia. Roddi only glanced at it gazing at her then Jazz for more information.

"We're kinda guessin' it ain't more than a cycle or two old, Rod." Jazz put in.

Roddi frowned. "What's the deterioration rate for iridium phosphate?"

"On this planet?" Blue asked back. I'm not certain, sir. But the weapon does not test older than a few months."

It was not news Roddi wanted to hear. "Thanks. I'll take it to Perceptor. Jazz, you're on duty for a couple of hours. I'm gonna look in on Rusti." Jazz gave Rodimus a thumbs-up. Rodimus turned away and reality blurred in a tumultuous whirlwind as time and space-reality compressed like an accordion and advanced by four Earth years.

* * *

Author's note: The dialogs spoken by the aliens in this context are irregular due to a rough translation of their language. Readers are encouraged to turn to the glossary located at the Cafe‚ for assistance of unknown words. 

**LOCATION: Planet Draun **

**EARTH DATE: November 29, 2038 **

A draft of cool air wafted about Galvatron. The unknown world they landed on rested in quiet dark; night hushed creation in a silent lullaby.

Galvatron took three steps from Prime and Cyclonus.

His optics beheld a world comprised of semi-organic and silicon matrix compounds. The grass underfoot was not the carpet of soft green from Earth. And while he heard the rustle of leaves in the cool breeze, his optics did not register chlorophyll.

Cyclonus softly called Galvatron's name as their Autobot companion blacked out. Drawing his cloak, Galvatron wordlessly tucked it about Prime's darkened form. Cyclonus supported the Autobot leader close to his chest. Prime needed more time for recovery but no choice was left to them.

Actually, Galvatron amended, **he** had a choice.

Cyclonus gazed at him and the Decepticon met his friend's questioning optics.

"I hear . . . life, Galvatron." Cyclonus quietly reported.

Galvatron shook his head, his face reflected Cyclonus' somber expression. "I don't know where we are."

"You could have stayed. The . . . ladies wanted you to stay."

Galvatron liked the Earth term 'ladies'. He thought Cyclonus chose the word appropriately. "They truly were ladies, were they not, Cyclonus? Nothing to prove, no malice or hatred. They redefine the word 'honor'. I wish all Decepticons could be such. But this is the road we must travel." Galvatron paused, his optics burdened with self-imposed resolution. "Rest, Cyclonus. I will take first watch."

* * *

The little tune played softly a fifth time.

Two notes.

The third one up, next one down one half.

Two and a half notes on a lower scale then several others accompanied the first five along the base cleft.

Two more beats, a pause.

The melody repeated, simplistic and compelling.

Not for several moments he realize the music played from someone's vocal unit. Prime's optics dimmed on, greeting a world draped in a cheerful blue sky, puffy clouds and a great silver tree sheltering him from a pair of spying suns. To Prime's right sprawled a lake.

Three bright red-orange birds paddled along its glassy surface. At the bank opposite his position, a gaffthew dipped for a drink.

Was that right? The Autobot sat up, staring at the shaggy six-legged creature. Its long neck acted like a support beam for several chubby little birds. They chortled contentedly and fluffed their brown and grey feathers. The gaffthew's shaggy blue coat shuddered under the morning breeze before it lifted its head. The fat little birds adjusted their positions along its rigid neck as the gaffthew turned its ears like a set of radar dishes. Its long whip-like tail snapped flies before it sneezed, upsetting the birds.

Roller tugged at the subspace entrance, begging for freedom. But Prime could not access those parts, now.

The Decepticons cured the disease and its symptoms, but he and Galvatron could not stay long enough for other repair work.

Roller calmed and accepted the situation.

The gentle tones sounded again, bringing Optimus' attention to his companions-or rather the one companion soundly sleeping.

Prime did not think Galvatron was honestly asleep.

"What are you humming?" He quietly asked.

"Hmm?" Galvatron's voice stirred from dreams and deeply inhaled. "What?"

"What are you humming? What song is that?"

"What song?"

"The song you were humming."

"I was humming?"

Galvatron sat up and started at the Autobot leader.

Prime's color returned to a full richness and his optics glowed clan and bright. How close did they come?

Galvatron decided he did not want to know. A familiar sound of transformation distracted them.

Cyclonus lifted his gaze to the twin suns, delighted to leave Monicus' dark despondency. "This world is appealing. The populace have no fear and honor their soldiers like heroes. But I could not find our designation."

Prime returned Galvatron's cloak. "What did you see?"

"Several small towns. There is some technology here, but I am not familiar with it-or the people. I suggest we approach them with discretion."

Optimus glanced back at the gafthew and privately smiled. "I don't think we're in enemy territory, Cyclonus."

Galvatron followed the Autobot's gaze across the lake. After their rounds with Swindle, Ry and the Voog D'Draph, Galvatron hoped Prime was right.

Two aliens neared their position from a nearby hill. Backpacks hung from their shoulders. Coarse clothing covered their tough, purplish skins. Straight brown hair drooped from the head of one alien; apparently the female. Broad cheeks lifted in a smile toward her companion.

The other alien displayed great enthusiasm in his speech. His voice raised to a higher pitch and the female laughed, then stopped short at the sight of the three Transformers.

At first no one moved or spoke. Optimus stared at them before examining their white shoes then the packs over their shoulders.

"Tak?" He kept his voice soft. They did not respond. Prime stepped aside and stared at the male's eyes. "Tak?" He glanced over his shoulder toward Galvatron, "Tak?"

"Ocorth," the male answered. He held his hand toward the lake. "Stor-ocorth." He waved his arms down, indicating the ground. "Tur-ocorth."

In dire puzzlement, Cyclonus and Galvatron stared at the two creatures. Galvatron couldn't decide if the female was the uglier or not.

Prime glanced at him, "I just asked where they were, where we were and where this place was. It's how they greet one another."

Cyclonus crossed his arms. "Why don't they simply Say 'hello'?"

"They did. They're from a nearby school facility. These grounds belong to it." Optimus pointed left and right simultaneously. "Kla-gonnag. Kla-donnada. Prees, soimushan."

The female gasped then laughed and rattled off a string of same-sounding words.

Prime turned to his companions. "She thinks it's funny that we don't know where we are. But she'd be happy to take us into town."

Cyclonus offered her a wry smile. It was indeed funny that Prime did not know something. The natives led them a quarter mile into town populated with high-rises and anti-grav automobiles. Relying entirely on Optimus' knowledge of the planet and its people, Galvatron questioned nothing. He was, however, unduly impressed that Optimus Prime did indeed have currency on hand.

Toward sunset, the three booked into a motel room.

They were politely offered energon and Prime thanked them before closing and locking the door.

Cyclonus sat at the corner edge of the nearest bed then jumped to his feet, unaccustomed to a spring mattress. He stared at the untrustworthy piece of furniture.

Galvatron pinned his optics on Prime; a glint of suspicion shot across their corners.

The Autobot, however, collapsed on the third bed and shut off his optics. Seventy-three percent capacity was still not one hundred. He knew his companions stared expectantly at him. Just one quiet moment, Prime thought.

That was all he got.

"Where are we?" Galvatron tried to reign in his impatience. He hated feeling helpless and blind.

"The planet Draun. One of several worlds I encountered during exile."

"You were exiled?" Cyclonus chirped.

Galvatron grinned and answered in Prime's stead, "Several times."

Optimus nodded. "I have family here."

Disbelief struck the Decepticons silent. They stared, expressionless. Prime did not notice. "At the point of my arrival, Draun was locked in war. Invading armies slaughtered entire families. I encountered nine children whose parents were assaulted. I could not find their extended families. So they adopted me."

Cyclonus finally trusted the bed and sat down. "You became their surrogate father?"

Galvatron fingered a phonebook sitting atop an entertainment center. "That had to be meganiums ago, Prime. The possibility that their great-grandchildren would know who you are is-"

"Feasible," Optimus quickly finished. "The Draun have exceptionally long life spans, their physiology is carbon-silicate. And their planet rotation is slower than Cybertron. They almost share our life span."

* * *

They spent the night leafing large phone books and wading through a number of telephone conversations searching names and addresses. Once they acquired information on city, region and destination, Prime slept for another five Earth hours. By the time he awoke, the suns peeked over the horizon. 

"We have to take a cab," Prime announced. His companions stared with blank faces; it was like asking a child to surrender a favorite toy.

"Why?"

"The district we're going to has a no-fly rule. They'll attack if you attempt flight."

Galvatron brooded in the cab while Cyclonus stared at the sky like a child wishing the hardest wish.

Prime felt badly for them. He spoke to the driver now and again, translating insignificant news events to distract his companions from complete boredom. Cyclonus pretended not to hear. Galvatron sulked.

The highway zoomed and landed three towns over. The Autobot mentioned how many changes reshaped the little village he remembered and the cab driver concurred in repetitive words and physical gestures. Three ribbons of exits headed left and straight until they paused for a street light. Six blocks dipped downward and from the crest of the next slope, a great temple rose before their optics. Galvatron and Cyclonus gapped at the building made of glass shards and polished steel walls.

A dome encrusted with glowing gems crowned the topmost tower.

"This is why we could not fly down here," Prime explained. "The temple is protected from all forms of aerial travel."

The driver spoke in his native language and signaled to the left then right before pointing to the temple. Optimus answered in kind, pointing to the temple then to the right. He asked a question and the driver shook his head, mournfully responding.

"What?" Galvatron asked. "What's wrong?"

"Just a bit of local news." Prime turned half around and faced his companions. "There has not been a new priest in over two hundred revolutions."

That impressed neither Decepticon.

"The high priest," Prime continued, "has the power to control much of the planet's ecosystem. It has not rained since the last priest died."

The cab slowed and parked before a large house built of mortar and stone. Prime paid the driver before he turned to his companions. "I'm going up first, to make sure this is the correct address. Will you wait here?"

Galvatron scowled. "Do I have a choice?"

Prime tilted his head, a slight smile. He left and Cyclonus snorted and folded his arms.

"Me, too." Galvatron grunted.

They waited in silence until Prime returned. "Come and meet the family. You can speak with them in Selenese."

The Decepticons disembarked and plodded up the grassy hill to a short front porch. A pregnant female, draped in a blue dress, greeted them at the door and signaled for them to enter.

"Nah'teer, your friends?"

"Yes, Losa," Prime answered in happier tones. He closed the door behind Cyclonus and pointed to Galvatron. "This is Galvatron. This is Cyclonus. They're traveling with me."

"Good for you to visit! No word came of your life. Come, sit. Something for you I can offer?"

Galvatron stared at Losa's blue eyes. A tattoo of gold streamed from her scalp to her cheek. It trailed down her neck and presumably under her dress. Her curly copper hair offset the deep purple skin of her species.

She was not ugly like the female in the park.

"Would either of you like something?" Prime asked

in her stead.

Cyclonus shook his head. Galvatron expressed awkwardness and said nothing. Losa ushered them into the front room. They sat in chairs while she took the couch. Her right hand massaged her swollen belly; her smile strained with discomfort.

Optimus was aware of his companions' uneasiness around her but could not help them. "When are you due?"

"Not for two phases. Baby is impatient."

"Losa!" Another female's voice rang from the back of the house and out came another female wearing flared-and-cuffed pants. Metal buttons dotted her light, long sleeved blouse that dropped low in the front. "Have you seen Jaeger?" The lady took one look at Optimus and her striking blue eyes shot wide open.

"Nah'teer!! Nah'Teer!!" she cried.

Prime stood and almost lost his balance when she all but threw herself at him in a gripping embrace.

Unaccustomed to such notions, both the Decepticons found other things of visual interest. Galvatron stared out the picture window.

For Cyclonus, the distraction found him. A small Draun, scarcely taller than the plant beside him, tugged at the lieutenant's metal fingers. Cyclonus stared at the toddler and leaned forward. He thought he was going to fall into the child's bright amber eyes.

Darkness filled Cyclonus' mind until another presence stirred close to his soul. Under normal circumstances, fear of invasion would have driven him mad. But he did not feel threatened.

_At the beginning here, the planet churned in its own juices, violent and restless. Storms of horrendous proportions jeopardized the world's physical stability. Its binary star system threatened to shred the tender world. _

_But a Hero of Old hushed the turbulent atmosphere so that life could exist. He guided the planet so that it took turns revolving safely about each star, the white dwarf, first, then the yellow and back. _

_And the Spirit gave permission and life blossomed. The Spirit gave the world to the Hero and he called it Draun. _

Cyclonus' processors flickered and his mind returned to the house and company. The child grinned, face bright with play, a winking eye and a finger over his lips. Cyclonus wondered what happened inside his head. No one else seemed to notice either the child's presence nor the personal exchange.

He settled back, unconcerned and kept quiet as the child requested, turning his attention to the reunion between Prime and his alien family.

"-yes," Losa continued the conversation. "Nonda went to higher schooling and became a philosopher. Rasplit competed for national games. Teaches wrestling."

Prime beamed with pride and took a place at the couch as per Losa's request. "And Beautha. What happened to her?"

"Bonded again after her first love died in the accident. Has four offspring. Teaches herbal gardening at lower schooling."

"Did she?" Prime's optics glowed with delight.

"Nah'Teer." Losa's pretty voice whimpered a bit.

"We heard news. You died. Why are you here?"

"By accident," Prime quickly answered. "Galvatron and Cyclonus, have been my companions. They saved me from a disaster on another planet."

"No," Losa shook her head. "Long time ago. You died. They all said that."

"Who, Losa? Who told you?"

Nonda answered in her stead, "The Quintesson lords, Nah'Teer. They arrived and tried to steal the city. But the warriors fought them away. The Quintessons saw Rasplit and said they knew you taught us. And they told us at execution. We knew they said truthfully. Why aren't you dead?"

"He is Optimus Prime," Galvatron snorted. "He does not NEED to die."

The ladies laughed and Losa hugged him closely.

"There you are, young amone!" Nonda called with a snap of her fingers. Pitter-patter of little legs followed by mischievous laughter forced the mother to leap to her feet and chase her son down the hall. She swept him up and carried him back to the living room.

"This," she announced, "is Jaeger, my third and hopefully final."

The young male child pointed to Cyclonus and his mother let him go to his preset destination. He waddled toward the lieutenant and clasped against Cyclonus' knees.

"Amazing!" Nonda declared, "he usually cannot prefer strangers. Certainly a charm from you must have caught his fancy, Bandar Cyclonus."

Cyclonus slowly gazed from the child to Galvatron, uncomfortable under the mother's approving smile.

Losa slapped her knees. "We must shop! We keep no food for you and your companions, Nah'Teer!"

Prime tilted his head just slightly. "Losa, I don't think they serve energon at local supermarkets, even on this planet."

"Yes they do." both ladies chorused. All three Transformers stared at them dumbfounded.

"Since when?" Cyclonus asked for his befuddled companions.

Losa's large eyes searched the ceiling. "A-a-a-a-l-l-l two . . . mayhaps three nigh on four blooms afore hand."

"Huh?" Galvatron and Cyclonus stared in greater puzzlement.

"Blooms Afore hand is an expression of time on this planet." Prime watched the toddler play around Cyclonus who stayed frozen, uncertain. "A giant tree blooms once every one hundred revolutions around their Alpha sun. Since this planet revolves around two stars in a figure-eight pattern, it means eight hundred years ago they started trading and using energon. My question, Losa, is how do we know it's safe for the three of us?"

She shrugged. "The Al'Ag'Arnoth use it."

Galvatron and Cyclonus groaned and hid their faces.

"Well, then," Losa pushed her swollen body to the edge of the couch. "Shall we go now afore the remaining brood return?"

Prime laid a hand on hers, "we can get it, Losa. I'd rather you not overtax yourself."

She waved him away, "no. We need other items. You stay, watch the house, mayhaps a bit of visuals. Nonda and I need an outing."

At that cue, Nonda picked up her handbag from the other side of the couch and little Jaeger dashed to her. "Come?" he begged. Then with a tug at her pants, he pointed to Cyclonus. "Come, too!"

Optimus stood and helped his surrogate daughter to her feet. "We could watch Jaeger, if you'd like, Nonda."

"In honesty?" she chirped. "Most kind! Jaeger, Gran-Nah-Teer will stay with you. Will you show him your room?"

He wailed utter disappointment "No! Sh'Dawn, go, too!" And again Jaeger pointed to Cyclonus. "Come, too!"

Nonda sighed, exasperated.

"Shall I go as one?" Losa offered.

"No," Nonda objected. "Other items need acquiring. Young amone needs no attention from his Sh'Dawn. Jaeger, stay, attend your friend and your sleep room."

The child's whimper turned to tears. Intending to ignore his tantrums, Losa retrieved her purse from the nearby kitchen. She slipped on a pair of shoes, winced and rubbed her belly.

Jaeger kept crying. Cyclonus felt awkward, knowing he was the reason for the altercation. For the sake of embarrassment, he chose to correct the moment and stood. "Perhaps I should go with you . . . to make certain the energon you purchase is the correct grade.

Decepticons require something slightly different from Autobots." He watched the two ladies' uncertain expressions then added, "And Jaeger . . . could keep me company."

Optimus dared a sneaking glance at Galvatron whose expression was of nothing short of shock.

* * *

"See?" Jaeger bounced from one side of the backseat to the other, pointing out buildings to his new-found playmate. "See? See?" 

Cyclonus traced the child's finger from site to site. The toddler's pointing led to significant objects of interest: a great warrior's statue. A huge water fountain. A building cleverly assembled of glass, mirrors and metal, rising to a great dome and from there a telescope peeked into the heavens. Optimus Prime described the town but briefly. But Cyclonus realized the city had a phenomenal history. He said nothing while Jaeger bounced and pointed.

"How long have you known Nah'Teer, Bandar Cyclonus?" Losa asked as Nonda slowed the vehicle for a street light.

"Quite a while," the former lieutenant replied carefully.

"I'm guessing your visit was unplanned here."

Nondar drove forward then signaled for a right turn.

"The device that brought us here is unpredictable."

Cyclonus was not sure if he should have mentioned the remote transport. Jaeger settled down as Nonda steered into a large parking lot.

"The temple has a transporter, too." she scouted one isle then down another, searching for a close spot.

"But only the priests and their assistants know how to run it properly."

Cyclonus angled his head just a bit, "do they use it at all?"

"Yes. But not since our high priest passed along. The instructions were in his DNA."

Such notions seemed absurd to Cyclonus. How could instructions be locked within the physical codes of a flesh-creature? He kept his skepticism to himself.

Jaeger gleefully swung his feet as he sat in the grocery basket. Now and again he pointed this or that to Cyclonus and three times, Nonda was shocked to hear her son say new words, things a toddler his age should not be able to annunciate.

Bit by bit the women found their way to the back of the store, tossing needed items into the cart along the journey. Nonda slipped in juice and sweets for Jaeger and complained about her oldest son's irritating love for an expensive confectionary, but tossed it into the basket anyway.

The supermarket's back wall glowed softly with several rows of neatly packaged energon. Cyclonus stared, amazed at the categories labeled in three different languages. "You must have quite a robot population on your planet to have this variety, Losa."

She expertly examined the energon and picked out three different kinds, surprising the Decepticon even more. "The Al'Ag'Arnoth are the most population. And too, minorities live, like the Y'dorn and the Automotrons." She set her chosen items into the cart and winced. "I ask to be excused! I'll return!"

She bolted.

Nonda stared at the energon, transfixed by its glowing properties. "You need to pick the best for you and your companion, Cyclonus. We know not much of Decepticon needs. Which makes me confused about two Decepticons doing with the company of my Nah'Teer."

She gave him a suspicious look, but it came without judgment.

Cyclonus reexamined the energon before choosing two packs most familiar to him. "Fate?" he offered. He could not stare into her blue eyes. "Optimus Prime was in danger on Mars. The attack was brutal. Galvatron-", he realized a short explanation was not enough to convince even himself.

"You saved his life," Nonda filled in herself. He mutely nodded, still unable to meet her gaze. Nonda snapped her fingers suddenly. "I forgot to remember! Please, care for you to companion Jaeger for a moment alone?"

"Yes, certainly. But I hardly think-"

She dashed off. Cyclonus gazed one way where Losa left, then the other where Nonda abandoned him. Then his optics rested on the child, presently busy playing with the buttons on his overalls. "I don't suppose this happens often." He really wasn't talking to the child.

"Yes." The boy sighed and nodded.

Jaeger's voice came clear, exasperated. Cyclonus' whole face twisted in puzzlement. The lieutenant wondered if his audios were malfunctioning. "Hmph. Lack of experience with children makes this inconvenient."

Jaeger lifted his arms, his face now hopeful.

"Up?" he asked.

"Up where?" Cyclonus asked ignorantly.

"Up? Please? Up. Go?"

"You wish to fly?"

The little boy giggled and kicked the cart with his little feet. "Up?"

"I cannot permit you to fly. If you fall, your progenitor would be put out."

Jaeger whimpered, disappointed. The whimper turned louder and Cyclonus glanced about, hoping no one saw him make the child cry. It was embarrassing. "You must not fly," he insisted.

But Jaeger cried more, causing the Decepticon to panic.

"Silence, Small One. If I take you from the cart, will you be satisfied?" Jaeger answered by lifting his arms again and Cyclonus took the child up and was rewarded with a delighted grin. The somber Decepticon allowed himself a small smile and lifted the child far above his head, hoping for a better reaction.

His mind flashed-

_Not long ago, a kingly Draun draped in golden robes and a scepter whispered and the sky grew silver-dark. A generous rain showered the cities. Commerce and education advanced with each passing year and the people traded with other worlds. _

_But then the priest died and the people suffered invasion, plague and famine. They prayed for deliverance and by the aid of his appointed guardian, a child entered the temple and saved Draun. But now the temple stands empty and once again, plague is slowly taking the planet, little by little. _

Jaeger giggled, bringing Cyclonus back to the moment. Cyclonus was no stranger to supernatural phenomena but he wondered if the toddler was communicating to him in such an unusual way. He felt good, as though cleansed and re-energized in like he never experienced before.

Jaeger laughed, "Again!" encouraging Cyclonus to try something else. He gently shook the baby, then zoomed the boy down, painfully close to the floor as if Jaeger were flying. The toddler's reaction tempted Cyclonus to do it again; this time with sound effects.

Cyclonus tossed the child into the air, completely caught up in the fun.

"Excuse me," a female's voice called from behind.

It startled Cyclonus so that he would have dropped the child, but caught Jaeger by one foot.

"Sorry to startle you, but I need to get to the selenium."

Cyclonus stepped aside as Jaeger laughed, dangled upside down. The female, a Gobot, grabbed her packages and stepped out. She caught sight of the Decepticon, clearly embarrassed, and the child hanging from his hand.

"Yours?" she asked politely.

"Em . . ." Cyclonus set Jaeger back into the cart.

"No. Infant-sitting."

"Ah." And she went away without another word.

Cyclonus laid his hand behind his head, wondering what on Cybertron possessed him to play with someone's offspring. More so, it seemed there was a secret to the toddler his parent had yet to share.

"Here we come," Losa announced behind him. "Please allow the apology. Difficulties take place. Hello, Jaeger, how did you manage into the basket from the seat?"

Cyclonus did not realize he replaced the boy in the wrong compartment and would have corrected the situation had Nonda not appeared at the same time.

"Crab cakes are unavailable for purchase. I chose to take these in their stead-" she gave her son an annoyed expression. "Jaeger, how often must I express my wish you do not climb to the back section for shopping items?" She shoved three boxes into Cyclonus' arms and placed her son back into the front of the cart. She retrieved the boxes with one arm and maneuvered to push the cart.

"Allow me for that, Nonda." Losa took control of the cart and Cyclonus wordlessly followed the ladies to the check-out.

Cyclonus felt silly, waiting and watching other people like some bored Human in an Earth Kmart store.

One female argued with her fussing child and gave it a verbal warning. Two males conversed quietly until one chuckled. Another female kept looking at her wrist watch. Everyday life seemed so awkwardly dull compared to Cyclonus' life as a soldier. Time seemed to stand still for these people. Did they live like this all their lives? Or did they ever do anything exciting or daring? Did they ever risk their lives for what they believed was right? Did they have a sense of destiny, or did they just take life as it came to them, good and bad? Were they even remotely aware of the wars and struggles fought, won or lost by others outside their own little world?

Cyclonus could not imagine living a life where one worked, return home, slept and rose to do it again day after day. It was inconceivable to live the same rhythmic boredom as though they waited to grow old and die.

Jaeger burst into laughter and Nonda laughed at him. "Tell me, my little amone, what bubbles in your heart? You did not laugh so good aforehand. Where does the laughter come?"

But Jaeger did not share it with his mother. He stared at Cyclonus until the Decepticon returned his gaze.

_Yes, they are mere, Cyclonus. But they are life and how empty the vastness would be without it! I see the honor within you, Bandar Cyclonus. Would you consider using your honor and strength to protect them? Consider . . . consider. _

Cyclonus stared at Jaeger, astonished.

A Gobot dashed in, his heavily built feet clamped along the tiled floor and he shouted at the top of his vocal unit, "The Temple is alight! A challenger has come!!"

Losa and Nonda glanced at one another and abandoning their basket, followed the crowd, racing to the sidewalk. Cyclonus tagged at a more leisurely pace.

It could not be as dramatic an event as these everyday-lifers' made it sound.

The great temple crested the north end horizon. A small figure stood before its glass stairs and raised a golden sword. The crowd applauded encouragement.

The challenger took one step and paused, expecting.

But when nothing happened, he dared another step.

Again, nothing. The crowd screamed in anticipation.

Third step. A pair of great sphinx statues turned their female heads toward him. Their silvery metal bodies gleamed bright in the sun as an aura of power lit their eyes and wings. The crowd fell breathless silent as the Challenger took yet another step.

One final step and he'd be at the doors!

But that one step extra cost him his life. Bright light shot into his chest. His body burst and tumbled along the steps. He landed in the gutter, a flaming, messy failure.

The crowd turned deathly somber. Some of the females began to weep while many males merely turned away, returning to their lives and business. Cyclonus found admiration for the challenger, but wondered what might have triggered the sphinxes to destroy him.

* * *

The dispirited return trip to Losa's home lasted too long. Even Jaeger remained quiet, disturbed by the event. Cyclonus assisted with groceries as he and the ladies entered the house. Settled on a large couch, Prime and Galvatron stared hard into a wide-screen television. A male clad in strange clothes draped his body over a chair like a flimsy doll. A ridiculous hat lay loped over the side of his head with odd metal objects peeking in and out of its kaki-green surface. 

"FOOL!" Galvatron declared at the television set.

"You allowed him to ambush your left flank! Experts in this game only!"

"Game?" Cyclonus set one of three bags on the kitchen table and entered the adjoining room.

Galvatron and Prime glued their optics to the television while their alien companion drank from an aluminum can.

"Ah, Cyclonus!" Galvatron greeted. He scooted closer to Prime on the couch and patted the cushion.

"Come join us! The second quarter has just started!"

The Draun male took to his feet and wiping his right hand, extended it. Prime stood also, indicating that Cyclonus take the male's hand. "Rasplit, this is Cyclonus. Cyclonus, I'd like you to meet Rasplit, my oldest."

And ugliest, the Decepticon thought. But Cyclonus silently bowed his head in polite Cybertronian greeting. Rasplit grinned and collapsed back into the fluffy chair. "Greets! Prop a cushion. I will supply your person with a draught in a wink. Visualize if Kronk attains this point."

Confused, Cyclonus settled on the couch next to Galvatron. The television before them displayed three scantily-clad Drauns and a Gobot in a tight wrestling match.

"Rasplit?" Nonda called from the kitchen.

"Present, yet physically," the male answered deadpan.

"Shmoke cake was inaccessible. I bought three boxes of presk, in its stead."

Rasplit grunted, more interested in his show than the properties to fill his stomach.

His sister peered round the corner, her curly copper hair spilt over her shoulder. "Another challenger attempted the temple this day."

That got his attention and he looked at her, hopeful. But when she shook her head, he returned to his sports program, a little less enthused.

Cyclonus remained still, his optics scanned the moment from Galvatron and Prime to Rasplit who grew more excited until he leapt from his chair twice then settled down when newcomers entered the ring. At that point, Prime left to assist the ladies.

"Go enjoy, Nah-Teer." Losa lovingly admonished.

"Guests here need do naught."

"Guests visit, Losa." Prime answered evenly. He received a warm smile and she set a bowl before him, a cutting board and a short sharp knife. She disappeared behind the counter then returned to the table with another board and knife of her own. "Well, as you insist, I'll allow you to core breebs." She dipped into the large bowl and hauled out a fat root. Its long tail wriggled like an angry worm.

Prime did the same and expertly cut the core from the root. "Tell me about Frix. Did she eventually-"

Losa laughed. "Frix did get into that higher schooling as she desired. But this amone swept her to the Royal Guard. They travel and it pleases her. Of course, remember children came inaccessible to Frix."

"Yes. The automobile accident she survived did a good deal of damage, which was why I tried to make sure she benefited by means of trade school."

"Yes, she bonded with Virm and did not finish. The rest is with Myra. And Myra is a court judge."

Prime's optics glowed with pride.

Galvatron entered the kitchen, looking a bit lost.

"What are you doing?" he asked, "it's nearing fourth quarter." Then he spotted the huge roots Prime and Losa were holding, wiggled as though alive. "What ARE those?"

"Breebs!" Losa grinned.

"They're a root," Prime answered smoothly. He picked out another and started cutting into the core.

"You have to cut the cores or they won't cook."

Losa looked a bit smug as she gathered most of the cores and threw them in the nearby trash. "Nah'Teer used to grow them when we were growing up. He raised all kinds of things, vegetables, fruits and arps."

"Arps!" Nonda snorted as she came in from another room. "I hated those things. They were a nuisance."

"Easier to care for than plu," Prime cored one more breeb and Losa took the bowl away.

"And what are plu and arps?" Galvatron took a chair at the table, though honestly less than interested in the mundane life of a family.

"Arps are small, two-legged animals that lay eggs. A family can eat the eggs and the arp and use the scales and bones for gardening. Plu are large six-legged creatures that make more of a mess than they're worth."

Galvatron narrowed his optics and he leaned a bit, "Don't tell me you cooked organic food."

Prime hesitated a moment then wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "They have this square little invention, Galvatron, called cookbooks. They're most convenient-"

"Listen nothing as he tells you," Nonda interrupted, setting fresh flagons of energon before her guests. "Nah'Teer's cooking was well organized, but not always interesting in the tasting department."

"Hoi, Sh'Dawn." A young masculine voice piped in as soon as the front door closed. Losa turned to greet the young male with a kiss on the forehead. "How was the teaching?"

"Fair." The young man stood dead in his tracks and stared at the two Transformers. "Sh'Dawn . . . is that . . . ?"

Losa smiled broadly. "Your Grand Nah'Teer. Yes! Nikel, this is also Bandar Galvatron and Bandar Cyclonus in front of the visual. Nah'Teer, please greet your grand-amone, Nikel."

Black-bluish hair streamed straight over Nikel's head. His face was longer than his mother's, but the eyes were definitely hers. He took the seat next to Prime, face alight with enthusiasm. "Sh'Dawn told me all stories of wonder! How you saved her and raised her and all my sires! And that you worked as a bouncer at the drinking clubs! Will you return for life with us again?"

Optimus said nothing at the moment, except to lay a hand on the young male's shoulder. A glance to his companion told Prime Galvatron was worried.

"Nikel, Grand Nah-Teer will remain thereafter late meal. Find your sleep room and attend study until then."

Nikel groaned but obeyed Losa. She took his seat as soon as he left the kitchen. She winced and pressed the side of her stomach. "Be still now, child," she told her unborn. "Little one does not like the night. I'm glad Nikel did not complicate my orders. His nah'teer works long sessions, comes home as Nikel sleeps. In the least Chyell stays home twice in seven days and uses time with Nikel. And Rasplit, Donty and Syl step in his nah-teer's duties the other when. Donty and Syl frequent the lakes for hunting and clams and Nikel always goes. Nikel uses wisdom and studies all the time."

Prime nodded after taking a bit of energon. The smooth taste tingled with wild flavor. "I recall Donty and Syl wanted to start their own business."

Losa brightened. "Yes! And Morry is the bookkeeper. But she longs for other things. Her crafts become more important to her."

Their conversation came to a close when Rasplit spat out a few unworthy phrases. He snarled at the television and asked Cyclonus his opinion. But Cyclonus, unaccustomed to such nuances, could not encourage or discourage the outraged male. Galvatron agreed with Rasplit, however, citing a few words in Decepticon 'arena jargon'. Optimus felt odd sitting here among a group of people he knew a few millions of years ago. They were all grown up and doing well on their own. The one adopted child Losa failed to mention was Adell. But her story was lost along a distant highway; a memorial gravestone marked the end of her life.

No matter how loving and wise the parent, there was always one child who pushed boundaries.

Optimus debated visiting Adell's grave. He knew the accident was far from his fault. But it hurt knowing that she would never have the opportunity to be a mother or hold an occupation.

* * *

While the family quietly ate their dinner, the three Transformers settled for private conversation in the living room. Cyclonus recounted the incident at the temple and the crowd's reactions. But more importantly, he relayed the information about the transport kept within the temple itself. Both his companions attended his every word. 

Galvatron finished his tankard and set it on the coffee table. "I'm willing to bet that transport has coordinates."

"A logical assumption," Prime agreed. But if the priests are the only ones who know how to use it, chances are slim to none they'll agree to help us."

"What discussion do you hold here?" Nonda stepped lightly into the living room and pulled up a chair. But none of the mechs answered her immediately. "Forgive the intrusion. I did not realize the privacy."

"It's not that," Prime answered softly. "We're not sure how you would take it."

She withheld judgement, "Nah'Teer?"

"Nonda, the transporter in the temple. Can you tell us more about it?"

She nodded. "They built it not long after you left us, Nah'Teer. Their construction for trade of medicines and herbs was all for good. But only officials used its properties. Only priests and the assistants understand its usage. We have no high priest, the transport has not been used. The high priest can call it to use."

"Why only the high priest, Nonda?"

Cyclonus finally stirred at this point, "You mentioned the instructions are encoded in the priest's DNA."

"Correct. A special sequence number in the DNA can call-activate the transport."

Galvatron leaned forward, suspicious. "What of your scientists? Can they not recode DNA sequences to recreate the priest?

"No," Nonda shook her head. "As the high priest dies, the entirety of the temple's system shifts to open to a new DNA strand."

"What?!" Galvatron snapped. "Who designed such an absurd thing?"

"The last high priest." Nonda answered evenly.

"His DNA protects from abuse by outsiders and conquerors."

The family retired for the night. Optimus Prime took that to advantage and rested in the front room.

Galvatron copied in the living room leaving Cyclonus to make his own mind.

Rest did nothing for Cyclonus. Landing on Droun was one thing; another alien planet. But unable to fly rubbed his nose in misery. Cyclonus missed the clouds and the feel of light and wind along his body. Flight was freedom and he had neither.

The Decepticon stepped out the back yard and raised his optics to a mass of unfamiliar constellations. As a warrior, his depression served no purpose, wallowing in self pity like a child grounded in discipline. Cyclonus knew his longing for flight only distracted him from the other problem at hand: finding Rodimus Prime and the Autobot refugees.

Cyclonus sat upon thick grass and studied the sky, wishing. He could have stayed with Scorponok. He still had the respect of his comrades en arms. But Cyclonus did not respect more than maybe two of them. Still, his belief in the future and Galvatron was not entirely as solid as he expressed to Prime on Monicus. Cyclonus knew the savage, brutal nature that gripped the Decepticons' appetite. It wasn't enough to satiate the desire to conquer; Decepticons needed control.

But it was painfully obvious that the Decepticons did not even have a destiny.

So was Cyclonus wrong in looking to Galvatron for a future? Should he consider making his own? Cyclonus knew there could be no room for he and Galvatron among the Autobots, no matter what Optimus Prime did or said.

Autobots and Decepticons could not live together.

Although . . . the potential of being allies was not that remote. Cyclonus might not like many Autobots. But he admitted he felt the same toward many Decepticons.

Truth be told, the former lieutenant cared nothing about politics or reasons for war. His concern was the future and welfare of his kind.

And like Galvatron, Cyclonus saw a true future among the femmes on Monicus.

What a terrible, terrible loss! Their honor could have inspired others to change their attitude.

That's what it was all about: attitude. He did not hate the Autobots but felt nothing could be done to persuade them that not all Decepticons worshiped destruction.

How by Primus was Optimus Prime ever going to convince the Autobots that Galvatron was not a threat?

More than that, Cyclonus wondered what lay ahead for all of them: destruction or survival?

Did it matter to Anyone Else?

"Help us," he whispered.

* * *

"Best of the morning, Bandar Cyclonus!" Nonda puttered about the kitchen while Jaeger stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed, clinging to a stuffed animal.

Nonda set a flagon of energon before her guest then swept her child into the highchair.

"Did you not sleep all night?"

"No," the former lieutenant replied dead-toned.

"Decepticons do not often require rest like other species."

Nonda paused before beating a bowl of eggs and poured them into a pan. "I see. But Galvatron rested through the night. Was it simply your turn to remain awake?"

"Galvatron is recovering from poison."

She popped bread into a toaster and poured milk into a sippy cup for her son. "What do you do when it's quiet like this? Don't you get board?"

Cyclonus merely shook his head. His optics scanned the living room where Galvatron slumped in Rasplit's chair, head down in rest mode. Optimus Prime was nowhere to be seen. The Autobot leader muttered things in his sleep earlier. His voice, the same as on the asteroid in hyperspace, whispered in slow, drowned words. It was creepy. And it was unusual that anyone should talk to themselves during shut-down.

"Here."

Jaeger reached for Cyclonus' hand with little fingers. The Decepticon placed a finger in the boy's palm and Jaeger squeezed.

_The future came at him like a shock of lightening. War lay at the edges of the galaxy; war the likes of which even Transformers had not seen. An ancient creature, born and bred of Quintesson technology, stood at the horizon, an army of vast size and power waited upon his command to begin the seize. _

_Without Cyclonus, Droun would be one of billions of worlds to fall under the stamping foot of conquest. But under his guidance, Droun would be an ally, capable of lending logistical support and troops. _

_Galvatron, Prime and Cyclonus did not end up on Draun by accident. _

Now Cyclonus understood.

"Play? Play?"

"Not until you've had breakfast, young amone," Nonda admonished.

"Hi, Sh'Dawn." The young man emerged from his room, freshly showered and clothed. He smoothed his hair and settled at the table. Nonda set a plate of eggs, toast and juice before him.

"Do you take practice today?"

Nikel shook his head. "Temple representatives arriving to attend students today. Working as temple guard is available." He drank half the glass before crunching into toast. Nonda sat between her sons and stared with lit eyes.

"Yes?" Nikel scooped eggs onto the second slice and carefully ate.

"Considering work for the temple guard? Wadges are worthy and retirement is a guarantee."

Nikel groaned. "Sh'Dawn, standing or marching is not conducive for excitement."

"Bandar Cyclonus does all his life." Nonda countered.

The Decepticon removed his hand from the toddler.

It was an unfair comparison. The boy was a child, raised where war was not a part of everyday life.

Cyclonus was programmed for nothing else.

Prime saved the moment, stepping into the kitchen and sat at the table. Nonda greeted him cheerily, but he did not seem to notice. Cyclonus struggled to determine if it was just bad kitchen lighting or if Prime's colors really did look slightly washed. His blue optics were not as bright as they should be.

"Breakfast, Nah'Teer?" Nonda offered.

Prime looked askance as if he wanted to speak, but refrained. Nonda approached and stared a bit too close in Prime's face for Cyclonus' comfort. But it brought the Autobot leader back to the moment.

"Breakfast?" she offered again.

"Yes. Thank you."

"What plans for you this day?"

"Galvatron and I would like to investigate the temple transporter." Prime trained his voice quiet and even.

"A hall of knowledge, Nah'Teer?" Nonda offered the flagon to her surrogate father.

"One such place." Prime downed half the flagon. His gaze fell impersonal on Nikel who squirmed under the stare.

Nonda noticed the moment too but did not know how to respond. She kept her voice level but cheerful.

"Perchance assistance can be found for you, Nah'Teer."

The kitchen fell terribly silent while everyone, even Jaeger, stared at Prime's sullen, statuesque posture.

Galvatron entered the kitchen. His footfalls thudded against the hardwood floor like tongs against a thick wooden drum. Prime bowed, shoulder struts closed about his face plate and his optics shut off. Cyclonus tore his gaze from the window as Galvatron joined them, unaware.

"I think I have found a way to configure this contraption." He set one deporter before the Autobot and pressed the blue and white buttons simultaneously then the black one by itself. The air shimmered in the middle of the table and a three-dimensional map glittered into existence.

"Whooo!" Nikel's reaction caused Jaeger to copy and the youngster kicked at the highchair.

"The problem is," Galvatron added, "I don't know how to program it."

Prime's gaze turned to Nonda with a bit of hope.

Her smile was there, but not the kind Optimus wanted to see.

"The Hall of knowledge is directional, Nah'Teer. I can offer you non other recourse.

"It would be a start, Nonda," Prime answered softly. "When would be the best time for you?"

Jaeger tried to give Cyclonus his sippy cup.

"Play?"

Cyclonus took the cup with a bit of a smile and undid the lid, finding the cup half full. He returned it to the child, retaining the lid.

Nonda stared at her youngest son, "yes, Losa is appointed to the doctor later this day. It is conceivable to attend the Hall at that time."

"Play? Play?" Jaeger reached for his Decepticon friend. Cyclonus regarded him dubiously. He recapped the sippy cup and again offered an uncertain smile.

"Cyclonus," Nonda called, "In caring for Jaeger, would you care for doing it in my stead? Losa must attend to the doctor. It will require no longer than a turn's worth of time."

Cyclonus gazed from Nonda to the toddler. "I might, Nonda, if I had experience in child care. I know nothing of offspring."

"Oh, he causes few problems," Jaeger's mother promised easily. "Asides to your resume, Jaeger is unconcerned with your qualifications. He likes you."

Cyclonus found that amusing and his face lit in an honest smile, fascinating Galvatron.

The trip to town bored Galvatron. He missed flying above the buildings and all the land-bound people among them. He missed the feel of the air currents about his frame; the freedom of movement. Stuck in a vehicle; waiting for stop lights to turn was not his idea of transportation. How did Autobots put up with such limitations? He wanted to asked Prime, but the topic was inappropriate both for the moment and their company. Besides, Prime was not in a talkative mood. His frame slumped.

Nonda dropped Losa at the doctor's office, swung around and drove across another part of town. Old buildings and monuments squatted with age. Landmarks punctuated the ancient streets with statues and memorials. Unimpressed, Galvatron slumped in his seat.

Even the now-fabled crystal gardens of Iacon made this town's pride look not much more than a child's attempt at fine art. Few things measured to the magnificence of the Decepticon Hall of Warriors on Cybertron.

Nonda parked nearby a great ancient building carved from bone and laid in ionized copper and burnished silver. Now Galvatron was impressed. "Here. Hall of Knowledge," she announced.

Books, parchment scrolls, advanced crystal memory cells and viewing records stuffed the Hall from floor to ceiling. Some categories even had their own rooms.

People peeked between rows or covered tables with research material. A worker dressed in black with a silver collar and trim approached with a well-practiced smile.

"Help?" she offered.

"Yes. My Nah'Teer wishes to review histories of the transporter in the temple."

The librarian considered a moment. "Yes. History." She led them upstairs and along a shelf casing hundreds of skin scrolls until she found just the right one. She handed it to Prime with a slight smile.

Prime unrolled the skin and found the temple's lengthy history. But not much on the teleporter. "Do you have more information?" he asked politely.

"A bibliography compiles a list of possibilities for your request at the bottom. Never the less, if none is of availability, please attend the Hall at the front."

It meant he was expected to read through first, ask questions thereafter.

Nonda excused herself to shopping with a promise to return in two hours. Prime and Galvatron settled at a nearby table. While Prime read, Galvatron slouched, his mind drifted back to Mars, back to Fortress Zenith; back and back even further. Faces and names of his former comrades reached the forefront of his meta-processor. But Galvatron no longer thought of them as warriors, as fodder for conquest. They were a band of opportunistic predators. And he decided he no longer desired their company.

He thought of Panda, Panther and the other ladies.

What a painful decision! But Galvatron made his choice by faith. He believed this was the right road.

Even if death should certainly take them, Galvatron chose not to regret this path.

Prime rolled the scroll, rested his chin atop one end and dimmed his optics. Certainly it was nice to visit with his family here on Draun. But he did not belong here. He needed to get back to the Autobots and he sorely missed Rusti.

"Well?" Galvatron asked quietly.

"I don't know. Break into the temple, perhaps?" Prime joked dryly.

Galvatron smirked, crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "Tempting. But as you say this is a no-fly zone. Might be embarrassing if all we can do is run like flesh creatures. Cyclonus and I are not a pair of tricycles."

"Neither am I," Prime grunted. He returned the scroll and glanced at other potential titles. "What we need is someone who knows something about algorithmic and dimensional physics."

"Then we'll need a school, not a library."

Prime leaned against the bookshelf, optics cast upon the floor. "I suspect this is as much as we're permitted to learn. We're strangers to this world. Not even the majority of the citizens are allowed certain information."

Galvatron searched the ceiling and shook his head.

A frown lengthened his face and he fell silent, out of ideas. Prime reexamined the limited collection.

Nonda found them after her two-hour time table.

They did not need to explain the situation. She sat at the table and read their faces. "I'm sorry for it all, Nah'Teer. Pity for something to do or say in help. But our family is far from distinctive; We are mere citizens."

Galvatron's hands clenched into fists and he bowed his head then gazed at her, a little more relaxed, his palms flat on the table. "Nonda, we must either find a way to use the temple transport, learn how to use our deporter, or we will be your permanent house guests."

Nonda gazed at him, innocent and inviting. "Not too tragic a thing. We have plenty of room."

"That's not the problem, Nonda," Prime answered quietly. He took a seat opposite Galvatron. "Galvatron and Cyclonus are Decepticons. We cannot stay because they are creatures of the sky. They cannot fly here and keeping them on the ground would eventually kill them."

Galvatron stared at the Autobot leader, astonished.

How could he understand the necessity for freedom of the sky? Galvatron's systems demanded a deep breath so his power core vibrated again. If Prime heard him breathe, the Autobot made no movement to indicate as much. Galvatron shuddered with new-found respect for his courteous Autobot companion.

Nonda scowled, sad for their dilemma. "I have lost the wealth of good ideas, Nah'Teer. But Rasplit may have one. Let's return home and think on it there."

Optimus agreed to return with some misgivings. He had let Galvatron and Cyclonus down and hoped things would turn around soon.

* * *

The boys showed Cyclonus their room and every game or toy they owned. They babbled and questioned him until most Decepticons would go quite mad. But Cyclonus answered each question to the best of his knowledge. He listened to their tales-both logical and make believe.

Nikel was the family artist. And while not yet professional, Nikel's work was impressive for his age.

Sketches of tall buildings and people littered the bedroom floor, pasted the walls and stuffed the little trash can.

"They're nonessentials of my dreams," the boy answered the Decepticon's curious examinations. "Odd dreams come to my sleeps and I set them free when I draw them down."

"Do you understand your dreams, Nikel?"

"Understanding is never there, never words or faces Bandar Cyclonus. There comes lights and shapes and ever regarding this one body in robes of gold. A crown touched of light encircles the head. Sh'Dawn is confused and my dreams do not make pictures for her."

Cyclonus pondered over one sketch of a figure with a darkened face and a circlet of gold about his head.

His right hand held a radiating staff and behind him rose the temple. Nikel's work was impressive but it left the Decepticon uneasy.

A second drawing framed on the wall piqued

Cyclonus' attention: a great alter fringed with leaves of gold and a plaque on the front that resembled a control panel. "Nikel, what is this?"

The boy shrugged, "not to tell. Fuzzy in view from the dream I was disenchanted when I began the work then Jaeger wanted to help. So I permitted it."

"Jaeger drew some of this?"

"What you say?" Nikel acted surprised. "No. His age cannot control his abilities. But he tells me and I put it down."

Cyclonus doubted nothing. "Would you draw another picture from your dreams?" he asked, though not sure why.

Nikel shrugged, happy. "What is your inclination?"

Cyclonus handed the boy his drawing book, "the steps leading to the doors of the temple."

"Temp!" Jaeger dropped a set of automobiles and joined the two as they settled. Nikel revealed a box of drawing tools and waited to conjure an image.

"Kitty?" Jaeger suggested.

"That's right," Nikel agreed. "There's the sphinxes, huh?" The boy blinked, realizing what

Cyclonus was asking. His eyes shot up. "The question from you regards dreams about the temple! What guess is this?"

Sullen and silent, Cyclonus had no answer for the boy. He stared at the page, as though expecting the drawing to appear on its own.

Jaeger pointed to the center right of the page.

"Kitty!" and he clapped his little hands. His toddler cheeks puffed with a broad smile.

"Yes! Yes!" Nikel sketched the sphinxes and the temple's nine stairs. He raced over the page like an expert.

Cyclonus watched, fascinated by the process. Art was not prevalent among Decepticons. It served no purpose. "What can you tell me about the temple and the sphinxes?"

Nikel shrugged at first while he shaded the doors and steps. "Knowledge says if the guardians find you trespassing, death is imminent. All contestors utilize armor and tricks. Others try potions. One even used music. Temple guardians hold no appreciation for falsehood."

"Are there not workers who maintain the temple?"

"Indeed."

"How do they get into the temple?"

Nikel delayed his answer as he shaded the second sphinx. He left the wings and eyes bright, just as Cyclonus remembered them the day before. "The high priest calls and they take permission, I think."

"And does the high priest control the sphinxes?"

"I do not know."

Jaeger left Nikel and climbed around Cyclonus' legs until he settled into the Decepticon's lap.

At first Cyclonus felt awkward, not knowing what to do or think about this sort of physical contact. He held his arms aloft, not knowing what to do with them.

Jaeger reached up and took the warrior's hands and set them on Cyclonus' own knees. Jaeger confused him. In one way, he was clearly a child. But in another, a depth of spirit indwelt him the likes of which his mother did not seem aware. Bit by bit Cyclonus grew comfortable sitting the boys. As Nikel finished his drawing, notions fell into place for Cyclonus like pieces of a disassembled laser gun.

"Go?" Jaeger pointed to Nikel's picture. "Take me, go?"

"Are you asking to visit the temple, Jaeger?"

"Yes. He intends all the time," Nikel answered in passing.

"Why?"

"The statues attain his fixation. We pass along on the ride and Jaeger claps his hands. My Sh'Dawn falls to fear the statues enchant Jaeger."

"Go?" Jaeger raised his sweet blue eyes to Cyclonus and pointed to the picture.

Cyclonus felt torn, however. He could not just leave Galvatron. Not yet.

"No. It is not time, yet. Go and return later. Go and return when it is time."

Cyclonus understood the boy-child knew what he was talking about. But why was the temple so-Losa and Nonda entered the room.

They smiled, relived and pleased at the two well-behaved boys. "I intend not for them a burden, Bandar Cyclonus," Nonda picked up a couple of Nikle's drawings lying on the floor and set them on his desk.

"Not at all," the Decepticon answered truthfully.

"The boys gave me a tour of their toy inventory and we discussed the drawings."

Jaeger abandoned Cyclonus for his mother, welcoming her with open arms. "Sh'Daw!" he called and grinned when she picked him up. Nonda bounced her toddler as she stared suspiciously at Nikel's sketch.

* * *

While Nonda prepared the evening meal, the three Transformers stepped outside for private conversation. 

Galvatron and Prime reported their lack of findings to Cyclonus who offered no reaction. His lack of words made Galvatron uneasy and he glared elsewhere, somber, if not privately fuming. Prime took responsibility for their welfare and found the burden heavy. He strengthened his resolve. "We're not staying," he assured them.

The front door swung open and Jaeger's little voice called with the kind of familiarity only the surrogate Autobot father understood.

"Bandar Cyclonus! Bandar Cyclonus! Come, play!" and on little legs he ran to Cyclonus and begged him to play a bit more.

"Forgive me, Jaeger, but Galvatron, Optimus Prime and I are discussing our dilemma. Another time . . . perhaps after your meal?"

Jaeger looked mortally wounded and Prime felt for the child's disappointment. "It would seem, Cyclonus, you have been adopted."

Galvatron smiled, but kept remarks to himself. He leaned against the brick wall and rested one foot over the other. He kept his face straight as Cyclonus allowed the boy to sit in his lap, quiet and contented.

At length, Prime raised his optics to the dimming sky. "There is one other option, but it would take time and a chain of people who know people." He gazed at Galvatron, uncertain of his companion's reaction. But Galvatron said nothing for or against the half-spoken suggestion and Prime continued, "we might go to the Center for Higher Learning at the other side of town and discuss our position with the Magistrate of Astronavigations. It's a long shot, but easier to attempt than breaking into the temple and trying to figure out how the machine works."

Galvatron scrutinized Prime and dragged the words, "Maaagisstrate of Assstronaaavigations. Prime . . . are you mad? These people barely know the difference between a transportation vehicle and a microwave oven!

We'll be lucky if they can astronavigate, let alone show us how to plug coordinates into a device we know nothing about ourselves!"

Prime smirked over Galvatron's analogy and conceded his point. The three Transformers fell quiet. Ideas ran dry and moods turned gloomy. They may end up remaining on Draun for a long time.

Rasplit returned from his day after the boys ate dinner and Nikel attended his homework. Losa mentioned the doctor said she and the unborn were doing fine, but she needed to do more walking. It was about that time that Nonda's husband stomped through the door, greeting everyone cheerfully and his wife with a single flower.

He asked Nikel about his week's activities. But Nikel merely grunted until Jaeger mentioned 'pictures'. And that was when their father asked Nikel about his art.

Galvatron and Cyclonus remained as invisible as possible. But that was not to last. Nonda and Losa quickly explained to Longt about their Nah'Teer, talking over one another in excitement.

Longt greeted Prime with due respect, but did not know what more to say. He acted a bit odd or maybe possessive of his wife and boys as he laid a hand on each of their shoulders and kept laying his hand on Nonda's shoulders or hands. Optimus knew lines were being drawn, that he, Galvatron and Cyclonus were not to stay at the house; Longt felt threatened.

When the meal ended, Rasplit offered to clean the kitchen. Optimus offered to help, but Nonda would have none of it. She insisted they all gathered in the sitting room with a bit of drink and a game of cards.

As she shuffled the deck, Prime quickly explained the game rules to Galvatron while Cyclonus remained in the visual room with the boys who wanted him to watch a few programs and play games with them.

"How came here, did you say again?" Longt asked for the second time. He plucked up his cards as Nonda dealt and shuffled again.

"By accident," Prime replied simply. "We have a device that was made by the Inoux but we have no idea how to plug in the coordinates to use it properly."

Nonda intervened at this point, setting a blue card on a face-up deck. "We visited the Hall of Knowledge, but there came no answers. We intend to look further."

"It's very important we find the Autobots," Prime explained when he took his turn, plucking four cards off the down-turned deck and discarding a blue face.

"I've had no contact with them since the Inoux invaded Mars. I believe Rodimus is still alive, but I don't know anything more."

Longt did not reply as he discarded a yellow card.

Nonda would not have minded Prime and his friends staying. But it was not how Longt felt; it was his home, his family.

And Optimus was a stranger.

* * *

"Nah'Teer? Nah'Teer, please, please wake!" 

Prime's consciousness surfaced from shutdown, glad to feel more at rest than usual. He activated his optics and found Nonda's silhouette in the doorway of the hall. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Jaeger and Nikel . . . they're missing."

Galvatron stepped up behind her, his optics the only thing lighting his face. "Cylonus is also missing."

* * *

Nonda, Losa, Galvatron and Prime searched the house inside and out, upstairs and in the basement to no results . . . except one. Prime found Galvatron kneeling near the edge of the front lawn, examining a few patches of crushed grasses and a definite print in the flowerbed belonging to Cyclonus. 

"This is not like Cyclonus," Galvatron said softly.

"Not anymore."

"I know," Prime confirmed in the same soft tones.

"We will find him."

"Prime," Galvatron stood, scanning the street before confronting his companion. "He is not . . . this is not like him. He would not put anyone in danger."

"Whatever it is, must have been important. What direction do the tracks take? Can you see an ion trail and is there enough of it to follow?"

Galvatron's face lit with the idea.

Prime swiftly explained the situation to Nonda and that he and Galvatron would be back as soon as possible. But Longt was not convinced. He whispered a few uncomplimentary things under his breath. Prime merely pretended not to hear.

* * *

The Autobot leader rolled along in truck mode while Galvatron walked beside him, easily keeping pace. The Decepticon scanned the ground for tracks, picking up ionized particles unique to his kind. Prime made no sound, pausing when Galvatron lost the trail and resuming just as wordlessly when his companion found it again. 

Exactly as Galvatron privately suspected, the ion trail led them to the temple. Prime transformed to robot mode and he and Galvatron stood at the stairs, assessing the damage. A laser weapon holed out the sphinx's eyes. The claws of their feet and their proud teeth lay scattered about the steps.

Flashing lights flickered behind Prime and Galvatron as security guards and vehicles surrounded the temple. Two officers held them at firing range. A police captain slammed the car door and stamped toward them. A heavy laser cannon rested over his shoulder.

"Here! Explain this transpiration!" he demanded.

"Explain of your situation!"

"We were looking for a friend," Prime answered simply, somewhat amazed the officer in question spoke the trade language.

The nearest officer pointed to the vandalism.

"Sacrilegious abomination!" he used several curses in his native language, the likes of which the Decepticon did not need interpretation.

Nonda came flying out of her vehicle, avoiding this and that soldier who tried to keep her away from her Nah'Teer. "No! There is no guilt of crime! No guilt of crime! We searched for the third-he keeps my baby!

Please! Nah'Teer! No guilt!"

A hundred clicks tapped around Prime and Galvatron and at first Prime thought every soldier and officer prepared to obliterate he and Galvatron. It was illegal, of course. The Draun believed in process of law. But then Autobot leader realized the weapons were not trained on he and his companion, but the temple.

Cyclonus stood at the broken doors. Behind him a dim light burned within the temple. It flared, flickered then shot through every glass window, metal door and crystal crevice until it silhouetted Cyclonus' form.

"DO NOT ATTACK."

The voice was not his, but a young man's, commanding from behind the Decepticon. Galvatron flinched at the sight.

Nikel stepped from behind Cyclonus. He was clothed in the colors of the temple guard and Prime's first assumption was that Nikel had figured himself as the new high priest.

Nikel took two steps down as a smaller figure emerged. Draped in a golden robe, Jaeger gazed admirably at Cyclonus before addressing the crowd in perfect sentence structure and a vocabulary unliken to one of his age.

"I am Jaeger, son of Longt and Nonda. My faithful and kind guardian, Cyclonus of Cybertron, has seen to it I rise to my rightful position as High Priest. His companions, who now stand before you, are guiltless."

Shock held the congregation in standing silence. Then, one or two at a time, the guards and soldiers lowered their weapons. Some of them knelt before their new high priest until everyone in the area copied them. Galvatron and Prime bowed in respect.

Jaeger stepped in front of Cyclonus, patting his brother on the arm. With a silent hand signal, he bade the collection of officers and onlookers to pay attention. "I could not take the temple until my rightful guardian arrived. Yet, as attached I am to Cyclonus, he cannot stay-not yet." Here the child-priest stared at Galvatron, eyes shining with gratitude.

"I will send you and your companions to your chosen destination, Galvatron of Cybertron. You may go wherever you wish. Or you may go separate ways, if that is your desire."

Galvatron understood Jaeger meant the Decepticon femmes in another place and time. But the former leader knew that place was not something he could have; not if he wanted to do what was right. "My destiny lies with Optimus Prime. We go to Cratis."

Jaeger grinned a knowing smile before turning to Cyclonus. "I shall ever bear your mark in remembrance of your kindness and courage. I will bid you to rejoin me as my high-praetorian guard and counselor."

Cyclonus merely bowed and waited as the child-priest and his escort returned to the temple hall.

Cyclonus welcomed Galvatron as he and Prime climbed the stairs. Reporters gathered about the temple. Cameras flashed. The chief of police answered millions of questions while soldiers taped off the premises.

"Nah'Teer!" Nonda, Losa and Rasplit ran toward the taped area and Prime turned to wish them farewell. He embraced all three. "Don't say good-bye again," Nonda begged. "Stay a while longer."

"I can't," Prime answered sadly. "The Autobots are refugees now and vulnerable to predators. I must return to them and Rusti. You will be alright."

Rasplit embraced his Nah'Teer closely. "Come to visit us again one day."

Prime parted but tightly held his son's hands. "I can make no promises, Rasplit. Cybertron is gone. There is no telling what will happen." He embraced Nonda and Losa once again and wished Losa good things for her future child.

Heavy-hearted, he departed from them for the second time, rejoining Galvatron at the top of the steps.

Optimus did not look back and was grateful for Galvatron's hand on his shoulder.

The three stepped onto the transporter. A flash of light flared and died and the next thing they saw was a series of old buildings, a brown clouded sky and a well-lit tavern alive with music, laughter and hundreds of voices.

Judging the numbers of aliens and mixture of atmospheric molecules, Optimus recognized Cratis.


	9. Decetron

Author's note: This section contains graphic violence and profanity.

TRANSFORMERS: Dark Storm Rising

Chapter 9  
**Decetron**

The abysmal laboratory stretched into a death-light; a microcosm of hell wrought with morbidity and suffering. It reminded her far too efficiently of the same Quintesson space station hell-hole. Everything from the tools and tables to the floor and computers to the cages was sanitized; stainless steel reflecting an unholy brightness.

Unearthly screams erupted from the lungs and throats of young pregnant girls. Their pleas and tears remain unheard and unanswered by their inhuman examiners.

Rusti covered her ears and searched for an exit. But the only exit was down a black hole outside the door. It churned slow like the passing of ages. Its event horizon drained everything around it. Down. Down.

Rusti slammed the door, turned and came eye-to-optic with a Quintesson's Face of Hatred.

Tentacles wreathed about its bloated form and the devil dropped is mouth. A sound poured forth, the voice of Primus, the voice of something once profound, now twisted by fanatical self-absorption and power lust.

The girls screamed . . . the girls screamed.

Rusti shot up and whipped the blankets off. It took several seconds to realize where she was. The stifling heat of Cratis' humid, rank atmosphere drenched her body with her own sweat.

Okay. Okay. She was okay. She woke in a tent near the medical area. Daylight glared through light-colored cloth. Three other people shared the same tent. But they had no dreams and heard nothing.

The same haunting shriek howled through the camp yet again and Rusti jumped out of her skin.

She WAS asleep, thanks!

Heedless of her lack of jeans, the girl snapped off the bed, stormed out the med tent, silently snarling at the baleful, outside world.

The camp stood dead silent. No whispering voices, even in adjoining sections of medical. No banging hammers or whining drills. No laughing kids or working Autobots. No adults shouted and no vehicles hummed.

The scream burst again, now a living thing demanding attention; a vocalized fire that would not die.

Distantly Rusti recognized Dr. Arcana's voice as he profusely swore and ordered someone to search for a tranquilizer. He and someone else argued heatedly as the shriek persisted, now an octave quieter.

Rusti almost returned to bed, her body suddenly heavy with weariness. As she turned, her feet encountered something more than dirt: grass. The girl scrunched down to touch the red-green foliage when the scream exploded with renewed intensity.

Half curious, mostly annoyed that no one else handled the situation, Rusti followed the sound down three tents and into a small, grey tent with a tied doorway. She glanced about, knowing she was not authorized for entry, and undid the knot.

Jasmine Goodwin lay strapped to a table lifted at a twenty-degree angle. Iron-energo shackles bound her wrists, ankles, knees and elbows. Drenched, dark hair, a pale face and wild eyes made her all but unrecognizable.

"YOU! GIRL! Get me the FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

"I can't Miss Goodwin. You know that."

"What I KNOW is misinterpreted! They're counting on it! And they won't listen. I hear the screams, pain, shock, horror." she hissed as though possessed. "Better run, young lady!"

Rusti felt awful for her. How many times had she sounded mad herself? She empathized and wished she could help. Footsteps from outside the tent warned her and Rusti squeezed between towering metal crates by the door. She heard Arcana ask an assistant about the door's untied knot then dismissed it. Someone else darted up with heavy boots; he found a tranquilizer.

"Don't you FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Jasmine spat at them and wriggled against her bonds. Rusti watched between crevices as Arcana measured the dosage.

"Miss Goodwin, I'm not sure if there's anything I can do for you. Your twin self is dying."

She screeched, deafening the air with the caterwaul Rusti heard in her dreams. Jasmine voiced the siren of hell, demanding her soul's release to the wind. "I DON'T GIVE A FLYING ASS! She's better off . . . don't you dare take me to Bare Anches! **DID YOU HEAR ME?** I WON'T GO! I WON'T! I WON'T!"

Rusti did not know anyone could scream as long and as loud as Goodwin.

Arcana calmly administered the shot to her neck and Goodwin spit in his face. But her voice died to a pitiful lament, moaning in a weeping voice about places and things wrought by demonic forces.

Arcana scanned her heart rate and blood pressure while the deranged woman murmured ceaselessly. He gave a hand-held pad to his assistant: "What's with the obsession about bare arches?"

"Anches." Arcana's assistant corrected. "And I'm not sure unless it has something to do with a book she was reading-or so I've been told."

Someone Rusti could not see burst into the tent, out of breath and shaking. "Dr. Arcana? Sir, the captain is vomiting again."

Arcana sighed heavily and he and his team of two rushed away.

Rusti emerged from hiding and approached the barely-subdued EDC officer. She no longer screamed, but the scream fixed her face with bold lines and wild eyes. Goodwin caught sight of the girl and demanded deeper breaths to speak.

"You . . . girl. Do you know terror? Have you ever looked into the face of horror?"

"Yes," Rusti whispered. "I know what it's like to be smothered in the face of evil."

"Ha! Ha, ha!" Goodwin looked positively ugly just then. "Then you MIGHT survive."

Rusti felt mocked. What did the crazed woman know? She was a victim of her own hysteria, not the product of a Virus or a disillusioned parent. The girl turned to leave when her eyes caught the flicker of unnatural light. But it was there then gone even when she took a double glance. Rusti waited and was rewarded as a square of light blinked against the tent wall.

Here. Gone, and back like a small flat-screen TV come to life on its own. Static scrambled barely-seen images and produced no sound.

The girl squatted before it and touched the square. Light filtered between her fingers just as if it really were a TV. Rusti gazed back at Goodwin, wondering if saw it too, but Goodwin was out.

The square disappeared.

She stared a long time, waiting yet again but when it did not return, Rusti went to bed, mentioning nothing of the event in case Goodwin's insanity was spreading.

* * *

Magnus and Rodimus traded turns keeping an optic on things. As if by magic, the camp descended into lifelessness. Those few who could function at all eventually settled at their station and the moment they rested their heads, they too passed out.

Magnus took up the night watch and noted with growing concern how Rodimus slipped further and further into a state of lethargy.

The moment Roddi sat down at the conference table in the Horizon, he rested his head and his systems instantly shut down.

Of all the camp, the Dinobots were least affected. Spooked by the lack of activity, however, the Dinobots avoided traveling between the ships except to retrieve energon rations. Six hours later, Magnus succumbed to extreme fatigue. His movements slowed and his mental processors took longer and longer until he could not make decisions. Just before the city commander retired to the Gabriel Genesis, he posted the Dinobots on watch.

* * *

Magnus was not aware, however, that the Dinobots really were not the only Autobots unaffected by the negative ion storm.

Cloudstreaker sat still, holding a nanite polymers plate while Quasar made pinpoint adjustments.

The protonic field made Cloud's arms and back prickle with a ticklish sensation while she and Quasar worked carefully realigning the ten-flat-pi accelerators to the navigational lines on board the Hannibal's Mark. It was a tricky and dangerous job and allowed no margins for either error or sound. Usually this kind of work was done in space. But since the 'Mark was grounded, Quasar was forced to reverse the electromagnetic drives from the ship's two front cannons and create a field of artificial anti-gravity. Caesar asked Cloudstreaker to assist her not because Fort Horizon's second-in-command was a technical genius, but because she knew how to remain still, steady and silent for hours. Quasar would have asked Doublecross, but Ultra Magnus already assigned her to a 'special' task.

Quasar liked Cloudstreaker. The Aerialbot femme easily understood physical signals and did not need to be told or asked twice. The two worked in absolute silence for a solid forty-four hours. They passed tools and supplies back and forth. They took breaks every ten hours without a word, even internal communication.

Proton phosphate was a by-product of the gasses used to coat the ten-flat-pi accelerators and the anti-grav field. Because it was a phosphate, it twinkled like fireflies around them. Quasar paused more than once while Cloudstreaker watched them burst to life. Like tiny fireworks, the proton phosphate exploded in magnificent colors or sparked in and out. The femme returned her attention to the vital task and Quasar inserted two newly-repaired accelerators into sub-zero degree chambers.

Forty-one hours in, their work lights flickered dangerously then died altogether. The two ladies silently gasped. Cloud clamped her hand over her mouth, her optics bright with fear. One sound, any sound, and the entire compartment could blow and take the camp with them.

Quasar froze then slowly backed off. Protonic phosphate 'fireflies' continued twinkling in the air, assuring the femmes the anti-gravity field held. A surge of phosphate sparks accelerated to a phenomenal number so that for three split seconds, the compartment lit with gold, silver blue and purple. The lights flickered for several more minutes before they finally stabilized.

Cloud's form sagged in relief and the two resumed their careful work. Just three accelerators left. The femmes kept a close optic on the lights from that point on. Cloud remained mindful of the power output, praying nothing endangered the work and thereby the refugee camp.

Three tense hours later, Quasar placed the last accelerator into its chamber, bolted, locked and sealed the core. She cleared the protonic field and the femmes drifted to the floor before the anti-grav field canceled.

So relived the job was done, Cloud had no words thereafter. Quasar sighed loudly and leaned against the railing. "I hope I don't have to do that again ANYTIME soon!"

Cloudstreaker stretched her sides and checked the time before leaving the Hannibal's Mark. Quasar followed her coworker to the outside world, now cast in darkness. No one, not so much as night-shift patrol, met them. Strange circular scars darkened the ground in pock marks. Small smoldering craters dotted the landscape and dark scrapes marred the surface along the port bow of the Armored Crest. Cloud stared through shifting optical sensors, surprised at the sudden abundance of plant life gown around the campsite. There was no plant life around the ships just forty-seven hours ago! She hauled out her scanner and took air-particle readings.

Ten thousand negative ion parques per squared area.

Wait. That can't be right. Cloudstreaker tracked several yards toward the camp's central fire pit, now a collection of glowing embers and took a new reading.

Ten thousand parques per quare area. The negative ion readings simply could not be wrong twice. Cloud's optics glowed with puzzlement.

Quasar caught up with her companion. "I don't get it," the femme's voice was low, cautious. "There's nobody up and awake."

Cloudstreaker wordlessly focused on the ships, finding Autobots, aliens and Humans sound asleep. "There is an overabundance of negative ions in the atmosphere, Quasar. Have you felt them?"

Quasar gave the other femme a scrupulous expression and from a subspace pocket procured her own small scanner. As it beeped, several insects answered its call with high-frequency pitches of their own.

The ion particles Cloud mentioned screamed with hyperactivity. The scanner picked up yet another power frequency and automatically switched tracers. Under the ground lay a bed of ionized lead-mercury. Quasar calculated the hyper-ionized atmosphere emitted several powerful static charges, acting like a magnetic field that attracted the lead-mercury and thereby refused to dissipate.

"I'm guessing the negative ions are affecting certain meta processor functions in everyone here but us."

"Why?" Cloudstreaker twisted her face in puzzlement.

"Most likely cuz you and I were in a protonic field for a number of hours and the build-up has permeated our exostructures, immunizing us against the affects."

Quasar paced between the 'Crest, the 'Mark and the Cold Refractor. No one scanned as critically injured, at least not among the vessels. But there were young trees and grasses where there were no plants at all just two days ago. Where did the plant life come from? How could it grow so quickly?

A shape slipped from shadow to ship just beyond the femme's visual scans. Quasar transformed to fox mode and gave chase. Fearing moonlight betrayed her silver shape, she ducked under the 'Refractor and sniffed for clearance.

All clear. She circled the 'Mark, spotted her prey and chased the mystery figure toward the Interrogator. Once there, Quasar doubled back and with a graceful leap, somersaulted in front of her game. She produced her weapon: "Stop!"

The figure obeyed and she stepped into the light, meeting Dinobot Swoop optic-to-optic. The pteranadon looked incredibly guilty and hid two energon cubes behind his back.

Quasar flinched. "Hey, you're awake. Why aren't you asleep like everyone else? And what's going on here? Who planted the grasses and trees?"

Snarl's voice answered instead: "They all sleep." He rounded the Vertical Horizon, energon rations glowed softly in his hands.

Quasar heard Cloud's gentle footfalls behind her. "Why's everyone asleep?"

"Dinobots not sleepy," Swoop's higher-pitched voice sounded far more cheerful than his brother's.

"Not like wimpy Autobots, either, Swoop. Not like bossy Ultra Magnus. Come. Grimlock says we not stay."

Quasar squared her shoulders. "Hold on a second, you two. There's something weird going on here. What's happened to everybody? Where's the night crew?"

"Snarl not know nothing. You come. Ask him, Grimlock." Snarl turned away and Swoop followed. Quasar considered logic pointless on the Dinobots and tagged after.

Cloudstreaker, on the other hand, thought a flashlight flickered from the right. She glanced around, half expecting either Human or Autobot to appear within visual range. But when Quasar called for her, the femme turned away and the light flickered again. She caught it in time. Her core froze as an image lit the 'Horizon's belly. Two seconds of a history she could not pinpoint played like an old film. The image sent surges down the femme's backside. "No! Oh, Primus, no!"

Quasar called for Cloud again and the femme bounded through tall grasses after her companions.

Swoop sailed above while Cloudstreaker and Snarl stumbled about the uneven terrain. Quasar picked her way about, sniffing for old Dinobot signature trails. Rocky, jagged and unpredictable, the landscape was too dark for Cloudstreaker to navigate in auto mode. Unlike Snarl who had large feet kept his footing better, the she slipped and staggered over large sharp rocks. Quasar fell behind then caught up once or twice whenever she spotted new-growth trees and shrub. She took readings in fox mode while her companions kept moving.

"Too weird," she muttered to herself. "This can't be right. My scanners can be right." She caught up with Snarl and Cloudstreaker.

Swoop coasted silently above her. He dipped one wing down to ask: "What you do?".

"Trying to figure out why there's so much vegetation."

The pteranadon dropped, transformed and walked beside her. "Grimlock ask too. Him and him, Sludge stay by pretty rock-flowers. Not know why they there. Me Swoop saw them first."

Quasar gave the pteranadon a side-long glance and considered Swoop too much a child-like mind to know what he was really saying. "Flowers? What kind of flowers did you find?"

"Bright glowing flowers. Not squishy like Optimus Prime's flowers."

Crystalline sort, Quasar figured. There used to be several species of crystalline flowers with their own minute power sources on Paratron. Some species even changed color from one part of the day to the next. Considering Cratis' erratic composition, Quasar was not surprised to find crystalline plant growth here.

The four Autobots half stumbled, half slid along a rocky slope into a valley of jutting sharp rocks and twenty-foot cacti reaching upward with dehydrated twisted trunks. Limbs stretched in bulbous knots punctuated by several deadly two-foot barbs.

Sludge, Slag and Grimlock in robot mode, sat in a shallow pit surrounded by glowing crystalline flowers. Had she not heard it herself, Quasar would never have believed it; Grimlock was laughing.

Swoop and Snarl joined their Dinobot brothers and Grimlock praised them for the rations they brought. Cloudstreaker approached with trepidation and Quasar lagged behind, bewildered. She swept the area with her scanner and her optics as she eased downhill.

According to her scanner, the shallow pit and the flowers were the same age as the plants and trees around the refugee camp. And those readings were off kilter compared to readings produced by herself, Cloudstreaker and the Dinobots. Quasar wished she had been smart enough to take readings of other Autobots in the camp.

Sludge greeted her with a brightened expression. "Quasar come play?" His optics glowed as brilliantly as the flowers around them and for a moment, all attention was on the femme scientist.

Quasar took in Sludge's imposing size. Whether or not he was childlike, it was obvious bronto-whatever-Dinobot was no ballerina. "Um . . . sure. But um, how come you guys aren't asleep like everybody else?"

Grimlock grunted and belched. "Me Grimlock and him, Slag and him, Sludge and him, Swoop and Snarl, too, we not Earth babies. No need lots of sleep.

"We play here." Swoop drank a bit of his rationed energon, holding it with both hands then grinned.

Visions of the Dinobots playing 'house' hit Quasar; it seemed wrong. She unintentionally winced. "Oh . . . kay. What's with the flowers, guys?"

Cloudstreaker knelt before a clump of flowers pulsing red and orange. She held her fingers aloft, unsure whether or not to pick one. "They're precious, aren't they?"

Grimlock leaned forward from his seat of rocks and dirt. "Cloudstreaker, you no touch flowers," he warned. "Him, Snarl stepped and burned foot. It okay now. Me Grimlock make it better. Flowers pretty, but burn bad."

"Really?" Quasar glanced from the Dinobot leader to the nearest patch of glowing crystals. She added a power booster to her scanner.

The science 'toy' bleeped now and again and Quasar took a number of readings from one patch of flowers to another and kept shaking her head.

"What?" Cloudstreaker finally asked, "what is it?"

"It's not possible. That's what it is."

Slag pointed at Quasar, "what her mean?" he asked Grimlock. "What you mean?"

Quasar ignored them for a moment longer and knelt beside the one flower patch behind Cloudstreaker and with a laser tool, clipped one long-leafed plant from its rocky soil. Composed of a lattice of minerals and silicon, the stem, bent slightly under the flower head's weight. She looked at her companions with bewilderment. "Guys, this is raw energon in a diluted form. But . . . it shouldn't be able to do stuff like this. I mean, energon is cubical, not . . . not spherical. And the stem . . . this is comprised of minerals and cybertonium. But I can't understand how this is possible."

Grimlock grunted and took a last swig of rations. "It not matter. Dinobots no care if flowers not right."

Quasar glared at the Dinobot leader over the top of her scanner. "I know it doesn't mean anything to you, Grimlock but this is important. These things shouldn't be able to grow like this."

"THIS NOT FUN!" Slag complained. "Need to move. Want to play! Want to fight!"

Grimlock glowered at him as only the Dinobot leader could. Slag fell silent, moping like a scolded child told to sit still.

Quasar scowled and pushed herself off her knees. "You know, something must make these flowers grow." Silence met her hypothesis. Her optics lit up with an idea. "What if there's something underground that reacts with the ion storms? I think the ionized lead-mercury underneath the camp is causing everyone to sleep. Maybe there's something here that can redirect the negative effect."

"We look for better scanner?" Grimlock sounded hopeful.

The idea of Dinobots lumbering around the camp for something as small and delicate as a scanner frightened Quasar. She winced outwardly. Still, it was necessary to get a broader scanning range. "Grimlock, do you and the other Dinobots have thermo and radioactive scanning abilities?"

"Therms?" Grimlock tilted his head. "Me, Grimlock and Dinobots no scan therms and radee-o-stuffs."

"Me, Slag, too!" The restless triceratops shouted. "No scan therms want to play!"

Quasar moaned and her fingers pressed against her temple. Cloudstreaker watched her femme companion struggle for a solution and wished she could help. But she did not have any equipment sensitive enough for Quasar's needs. "Is it that you need an area-wide scan, Quasar, or a deep scan?"

"Both. But I'm too close to the ground, here. There's too much interference."

Grimlock stood and pointed at the lady scientist. "You need scan from sky? Me, Grimlock tell him, Swoop to take scan from sky."

Cloudstreaker shook her head. "That's really sweet of you, Grimlock. But Swoop can't scan for what she needs. He-"

"But he can CARRY my scanner!" Quasar jumped and gave Grimlock a big hug. "You're the best!"

A little embarrassed in front of the other Dinobots, Grimlock pretended to scratch a non-existent itch. "Me, Grimlock getting to be lady's man."

Swoop kept very still while Quasar strapped her scanner to the crest of his head. He seemed nervous and did not move until Quasar stood back, satisfied all would be well. "Okay! Transform and hoover just above the flowers, Swoop. I'll let you know when to come down."

Swoop shifted modes and allowed the air currents to lift him high enough so that he glided from current to current before circling the area. "Me, Swoop, see camp from here!" he declared. "See rock forest that him, Ultra Magnus and me and him Repugnus went to."

Quasar waited for Swoop to name a few other features of the land: long "stiff" grasses and hills with strange stones. She finally cut him off. "Swoop, what do you see here besides us? Do you see flowers?

Swoop tightened his circle, flying above them like an oversized vulture. "Me see two circles. Big circle and littler circle. Ground moves."

Quasar and Cloud looked to one another while Grimlock verbalized their curiosity. Quasar had her suspicions, but said nothing. She ordered Swoop to land and detached the scanner. The pteranadon sagged in relief as though a huge boulder were removed from his head.

Quasar snatched Grimlock's former seat. She tapped into the scanner's memory circuits and "re-text" the readouts.

The rest of the group waited. Slag fidgeted until he sighed, impatient. "Me, Slag say this stupid. We go play-fight."

"Me, Grimlock say we stay put, wait for Quasar-"

"ME, SLAG BORED!"

Still in his robot mode, Grimlock assumed a daring fighting stance, glaring at Slag. "ME, GRIMLOCK NO CARE IF SLAG DIE BRAINLESS. YOU STAY LIKE ME AND HIM, SLUDGE AND HIM, SWOOP!"

Cloudstreaker did not like the expression Slag gave Grimlock. She was sure, however, if Slag stepped out of line, Grimlock would handle the situation.

Quasar, largely unaffected by the moment, studied her scanner until she leapt to her feet. "Great Primus on High!"

"What?!" Cloudstreaker was glad for the break in uneasy silence.

Quasar shook her head. "I don't know how or why, but we're sitting on a small deposit of metallic hydrogen! That's why there's Cybertonium here! The hydrogen is encased in the stuff! Almost as though it were manufactured!"

Cloudstreaker looked to the Dinobot leader to see if he understood anything Quasar said. Grimlock tilted his head to one side. He looked silly trying to let a thought through even if his face gave little to no indication of an expression. Quasar glanced at Slag, still sitting slumped, bored, but silent.

"Well . . . what do we do?"

"Dig. If we can get to the metallic hydrogen and break it free, chances are the positive energies in it will disperse the negative ions."

"Dig?" Cloud glanced around, bewildered.

"Wait!" Quasar jumped down, tucking the scanner away. "We need to coordinate this better. Uhh . . . " she glanced from one Dinobot to another. "Swoop, help me gather up the flowers. Grimlock, you're in charge of the dig."

Sludge stared at the ground under his foot. "We dig?"

Much to his delight, Sludge got to dig first. Swoop and Quasar plucked the flowers and deposited them several yards from the excavation crew. At first Quasar feared the crystalline flowers would lose their color, crack and fall to pieces. But Swoop, who had seen Optimus Prime and Rusti replant flowers outside Fort Max, automatically placed the crystalized plants in the ground. He didn't understand why Quasar thought him a genius. After all, everybody replants flowers.

It took as long to replant the crystalline flowers as it did for Cloudstreaker and the other Dinobots to dig deep enough for Quasar to find her treasure.

Quasar allowed Sludge to inch her down the pit. Swoop scaled down the dirt wall beside her and they touched the bottom. Cloudstreaker and Grimlock watched with avid interest while Quasar scanned and rescanned the area back and forth. She transformed to fox mode and scraped one area, then another, her broad feet kicked up several interesting items, but nothing she aimed for. Swoop spotted several rocks sparkling in the moonlight. He swept them up as his Femme companion centered on a target. Quasar stood on her hind legs, her olfactory sensors sniffed one wall above her. She transformed and scanned with her toy. The second it beeped, she shoved her hand in and pried through dirt and rock digging a long hole until she procured a heavy silver stone. She found a second rock then five additional regular-sized silver stones. She secured them into a subspace pocket.

"Swoop, can you fly me out of here?"

"Me and you no dig here anymore?" the pteranadon held several other sparkling rocks but he was disappointed there would be no others

"Maybe later," Quasar half-promised. Swoop obligated and brought her back to the pit's ledge.

Grimlock wormed his way between Sludge and Slag. "Me, Grimlock, no understand. You say we dig. We digged. And you take only little rocks?"

"They're more than just rocks, Grimlock. They'll wake everyone up."

Grimlock started to say something but Slag beat him to it: "**NO!** Me no be bossed by boring Autobots! They says, 'Slag go here' and here Slag goes. 'Slag do this' and Slag do that. Me, Slag no want to go here and do this no more!"

Cloudstreaker grew nervous again. She didn't think she and Quasar could execute the plan by themselves. She tried to think of a good but simple argument to convince the Dinobots they were needed. But nothing came to mind.

Fortunately Quasar already knew how to convince the pig-headed prehistoric bully wanna-be's. She scrutinized each of them. "I guess, then, Rusti will sleep forever and you won't get to play football-ever again."

Grimlock gasped. His reaction was so comical it took every ounce of Quasar's self discipline not to laugh.

Sludge, however, took the moment to heart and fell to his knees, mournful and speechless. Swoop looked like an abandoned child. He glanced from Quasar to Grimlock hoping someone would save the moment.

Grimlock regained his composure and brooded thoughtfully. "Dinobots strongest of whole camp," he solemnly stated. "That mean we have responsibility."

Slag snorted. "Me, Slag no CARE for responsibility! ME WANT TO PLA-"

Grimlock transformed to Dino mode and roared so that loose rubble in the shallow pit vibrated. Swoop and Cloudstreaker covered their audios and grimaced.

But Slag remained stubborn. He snarled, lunged and rammed into Grimlock's middle.

Grimlock landed on his backside, kicked Slag off with both hind legs and leapt back to his feet. Slag landed like a cat and scampered back, spearing Grimlock once gain. Grimlock shifted to robot form and braced himself against yet another assault. Now they were head-to-head; an immovable object against an irresistible force; neither able to gain ground.

Then Grimlock gave way just enough to use Slag's momentum against him. He swung Slag around, tripped and flipped the Triceratops on his back.

Grimlock finished the move with an elbow to Slag's neck.

Slag laid still, taking in air. The look in his optics sent surges down the femmes' backs. Grimlock sat on Slag, pinning the Dinobot's arms to the ground and stared with a darkening optic visor. "Me, Grimlock know you Slag not happy." Grimlock growled low, but without anger. "Me know him, Snarl not happy, too. Everybody not happy anymore. Him, Sludge, and him, Swoop scared. We not go home. But you, Slag and him, Sludge, and him, Snarl and him, Swoop and me, Grimlock, we all alive. We all strong. We . . ."

Grimlock released Slag who sat up, face locked in frustration. For the first time in anybody's recollection, Quasar heard the Dinobot leader choke. Under all that armor and tough-guy king-of-the-mountain facade, there lay a real soul; every bit as vulnerable and uncertain as everyone else. "we. . . we take care of all Autobots. All Hu . . . mans. Not because they say 'go here, do this.' but because WE CAN."

Realization hit him and at first Slag lit up as if someone switched on his brain. Then his expression fell, ashamed.

To save the moment, Grimlock added, "Me, Grimlock know all frustrating. Work boring. No time to play. But we strong. We keep forward. We take care of Autobots."

* * *

They flew back to camp. The Dinobots thundered in their landing and Quasar, riding on Grimlock's back, was never happier to be on the ground. Cloudstreaker landed just outside the camp and caught up with them as Quasar whipped out her scanner. The Dinobot leader ordered each of his troop to take a look around-and to remain quiet.

Cloud thought reconnaissance was a good idea and quietly entered the Vertical Horizon. Members from all fortress-cities lay on flats or in recharging chambers, dead asleep like animals in hibernation.

She found Jazz in a chair, slumped over the 'Horizon's communications panel. Opposite him Slingshot lay on the floor, face-down.

Several Humans and aliens dotted the floor curled up or snuggled under blankets. The whole ship felt more like a morgue than a space-faring vessel.

Where was Rodimus Prime?

Cloudstreaker left the bridge and peeked from room to room until she found the conference room. Gryph lay on the floor near a bulkhead, offline. Near her lay Trinket and near her lay EDC officer Kempler Brynes.

Roddi lay with his head on the table, arms about his face. Cloud knelt next to him. "Commander?" she whispered. "Rodimus? Rodimus?"

He half-roused and although his dim optics rested on her, Rodimus did not register anything.

"Rodimus, Quasar might have a solution, Sir."

No reply. Roddi slumped back, falling to an even deeper sleep. Cloudstreaker stood and laid a hand on his upper arm. Rodimus felt slightly overheated. Knowing she could do nothing about it, Cloudstreaker left the 'Horizon and examined the Gabriel Genesis.

Everyone onboard also slept to the point of unconsciousness. But on the 'Genesis, she found Ultra Magnus, resting at the controls. His huge form covered the entire panel.

Cloudstreaker laid a timid hand on his left shoulder. Her laser core raced as her hand connected with his body. She felt his warmth and withdrew. Magnus looked so peaceful; his mass covered the control panel as though he owned it. She loved the strength of his body language, even in sleep. Cloudstreaker lingered a moment longer, wishing she had the courage to tell him how she felt. But she did not feel worthy of his attention.

The femme jet withdrew, now fearful he'd wake and demand why she touched him-even if her head said he would not. Cloud reached for a digipad covered by his hand and flipped through the report, scribbled out by Perceptor's extensive language. She could make no sense of it and set it back. Reluctantly, Cloudstreaker shook herself from the moment; Quasar and the others were waiting.

Upon returning to the group, Cloud found Quasar carved a large circle toward the center of camp. She kept the ignition point away from anything that could catch on fire. Quasar also took care to remove the surrounding grass.

One by one each Dinobot returned with the same report: all quiet, all asleep. Swoop glided down as his brothers reported back to Grimlock. He allowed Slag to have his say about the Frostbite and the Razor Lady before reporting about weird noises from an acid river far away from the camp.

Sludge managed to return without stepping on anyone or breaking anything and talked about the Thermosphere. Everybody snored. Snarl returned last with a bit of disturbing news.

"Me, Snarl saw marks on dirt; crushed weeds."

"What make them marks?" Grimlock asked.

"Me not know. Big marks, smell salty-dirty."

"Hmmm . . ." Grimlock tried to look thoughtful. "Me ask animal?"

"Animal no salt-smell. Not Human. Big for Human."

Quasar withdrew the stones and reoriented her scanner. "Guys, is everyone in the camp still asleep?

Slag pointed from his direction. "All sleepy heads that way."

"Everybody sleep." Sludge confirmed.

Cloudstreaker frowned. "I tried to awaken Rodimus Prime, but he won't come out of it."

Quasar nodded as she adjusted her calculation. She clicked the scanner off and made optical contact with each Dinobot and Cloudstreaker. "Alright. I will try to keep this simple. The big storm we had-do you guys remember the storm?" She watched them nod. "Well ..." keep it simple, she reminded herself, "it cast a magic spell on the whole camp. These special rocks will break the spell. But only you guys and Cloud can break the rocks, okay?"

Slag could not resist: "We smash rocks?"

"No. They can't be smashed, Slag. They're solidified metallic hydrogen which is pure positive energy." She lost them but kept going. The hydrogen is inside the rock. Cybertonium is on the outside-"

"Ooh!" Swoop lit up excitedly, "like an egg!"

"Yes!" Quasar smiled with relief. "Yes! Exactly! These are hydrogen eggs and only you guys can open them with your fire-breath. But it has to be VERY hot and right on the rocks. Can you guys do that?"

"Dinobots kick ass," Grimlock declared. "Little rocks have no chance."

Quasar positioned the Dinobots according to their strengths, placing Cloud between Grimlock and Sludge as the Distribution Point. She then transformed and found a small, cozy place of protection.

"Ready?" she called.

"Dinobots ready." Grimlock answered evenly.

"On the count of three, guys-" and she wondered if they COULD count to three. "ONE. TWO. THREE!"

The temperature streaked five hundred and seventy degrees in seconds. All plant life nearby smoldered and the thinner hauls of nearby vessels softly glowed red as the temperature increased ten then a hundred fold in yet another couple of seconds. Quasar choked in the stifling atmosphere. The metallic hydrogen reached critical temperature. Cloudstreaker opened her subspace conduits just as the hydrogen and cybertonium exploded. She expanded the surge around the camp and across the plain.

The resulting explosion knocked her and the Dinobots flat. A reactive blast of cold air rushed over them as the cybertonium shells melted and the metallic hydrogen vaporized. The atmosphere, once burdened by heated negative ions, lifted. With the release of hydrogen, a clean, sweet rain followed and the group instantly felt better.

Grimlock laughed like a ticklish little kid. "Me, Grimlock say we do that again."

* * *

Rodimus couldn't shake the cold surges pricking his body like millions of needles. How long had he been out? It seemed days. He lolled his head to the right and stared into space. That is, he looked at shapes and colors, but his mind registered nothing.

What day was it? What time was it? What needed to be done? Who was on patrol?

Up! Get up and move! His inner self commanded, his lazy side told him not to worry about anything-disaster would come whether or not he was prepared.

Rodimus sat up, shuddering. Why did his exostructure hurt so much? He touched his forehead and found his temperature slightly higher than normal. He staggered among those still asleep, amazed he kept his footfalls light. Upon reaching the 'Horizon's control panel, Roddi collapsed into the navigator's chair. He felt crappy. "Horizon," he called the ship, "status report."

Static.

Rodimus could easily go back to sleep. But pure will wrought of a solid responsibility gave the Autobot leader the strength necessary to force himself awake. Rodimus kicked the consol. "**HORIZON**!" he called more loudly, "status report!"

Static. Like that one god-awful summer in 2015 where not one drop of rain blessed the Cascades and Central City.

Static-a streak of stubbornness staring at him as though it were flipping him off. It only roused Roddi's ire and he kicked it again. The static cleared once, flickered and cleared again to offer a visual of the immediate area.

OUTSIDE TEMPERATURE EIGHTY-SEVEN DEGREES FAHRENHEIT. BAROMETRIC PRESSURE AT-

"Never mind the stupid weather report. Give me camp status. What's on patrol who's on shift?"

OUTER PARAMETER PATROL: DINOBOT SWOOP, DINOBOT SNARL. DINOBOT SLAG. INTERIOR PATROL:-

"Never mind!" Roddi snarled, now fully awake. "I'll find out for myself."

He abandoned the chair and stepped over one person or another. The camp welcomed him with an eerie silence. Rodimus passed the Hannibal's Mark and encountered the Armored Crest as Kup came staggering down the plank.

Roddi caught his friend and mentor as the old bot stumbled and nearly fell. "Little too much radium in that last drink, Kup."

The 'old timer' drew two deep puffs of air and stared at Rodimus as though waking from a dream. "The ion storm."

"Yeah," Rodimus helped him to stand straight and Kup raised his optics to the sky.

"Something's not right. There shouldn't be grass here."

Roddi startled with realization. "You're right!" the two of them examined the camp up and down, taking in sights of brush and small trees, weeds and a few vines grown over the Confiscator and the Cold Refractor. Kup disappeared back into the 'Crest and returned with a scanner. The two Autobots transformed and drove slowly along the roadways between ships, camp sites and tents. One or two at a time, Autobots and Humans slowly came to life. Children wondered out, unaided or watched. They stared at the sky with sleepy, empty eyes. Adults stumbled out much of way Kup did, peering at the sky with squinting eyes. Autobots came to life, one transformed from vehicular mode and stretched his compacted form to relieve kinks.

Rodimus and Kup ended their assessment tour, finding Grimlock and Quasar sitting on a slab of rock. The Dinobot noisily devoured a ration of energon while the femme greeted the chief of security and Prime with a grim smile.

"Morning. Or it would be on Mars."

Kup grinned.

"What, uh . . ." Rodimus glanced about again, seeing dark clouds brimming on the horizon. A cool moist breeze brushed grasses in the valley nearby. "What . . . what's . . ."

"I know it sounds wacko," Quasar quickly interrupted. "And you're welcome to ask Perceptor to verify my readings, Commander, but um . . . according to my scans, the plant life is four years old."

Kup and Rodimus stared at her, dumbfounded. "Look, she continued, "All the readings among us-the Autobots, the ships, we've all aged four Earth years."

"That's . . . not possible."

"That CAN'T be possible," Kup added. "Not even the slime-headed glitch-infected Quintessons have the power to push time forward like that."

Roddi tried to fathom what she was saying, "we-you mean we've been asleep for four years?"

"No. I'm saying time has passed four years. That this area and our bodies have aged over night by four years."

It was too much of a logic jump for Rodimus. Even if the plant growth was proof of the time lapse.

Little at a time, the refugee camp came to life. People asked the same questions for several hours until they decided it was better to spend their energy cleaning, taking inventory and check-once again-all things for repairs.

Rodimus received a fair amount of good news throughout the day. No casualties reported. No damage other than what the ion storm left. And amazingly, the Dinobots were in good spirits. More than that, Snarl had taken up baby sitting on his own, volunteering to play with the little children while Slag was more eager to help with heavy loads.

Rodimus visited Arcee later that evening. Magnus was already there, talking quietly. Arcee softly laughed. It sounded music to Roddi's audios. Geeze, how long had it been since he heard that? Decades.

Literally.

Roddi felt intrusive and backed out the doorway. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No, Rodimus, don't go." Arcee pleaded. "Come sit with us. Ultra Magnus was telling me of his little outing at the canyon. Have you seen or talked to Cloudstreaker? Is she better?"

"Yeah," Roddi replied wearily. To him, the morning was million years ago. "She's doing fine. She, Quasar and the Dinos found a way to break the depression cycle. How are you, Arcee?" How's stuff?"

"Stuff is fine." the femme answered after reflecting a moment. "In fact, I've considered a new paint job. I know it's not feasible right now. But I think a change would be good."

"You deserve a change." Roddi automatically agreed. When you're ready, just let me know."

No smiles passed between them. Arcee read weariness on Roddi's face, Roddi read determination on hers.

An uncomfortable silence stifled the room until Roddi stood. "Well, it's been. I have a few other people to yak at. Mags, I'm giving you afternoon shift tomorrow."

"You're not doing another all-nighter, are you, Rodimus?"

"Need to. I want to start preparations for leaving with or without Optimus." he ignored Magnus' and Arcee's disconcerted looks.

* * *

Rusti woke groggy, lighter and less cranky than last time. She batted her eyes and sat up, half listening to a mother and child in the next tent.

"But, Mama, it's my favorite."

"I know it is, Greg, but it's too little for you."

"But I wore it yesterday."

"I said 'no', Greg. Here, wear your brother's."

the little boy whined and Rusti empathized. How many hand-me-downs did she wear until she insisted on her own styles? Dezi's clothes really weren't that BAD. But they were Dezi's clothes. Rusti yawned and stretched and noticed her nails were longer.

A bath or shower sounded wonderful and Rusti realized how much she missed having her own bathroom. She collected her exo-suit, slipped on the clothes and made her way to the restroom in the Kummay.

Many showers there, but not one bathtub.

Everything sucked.

Rusti settled at the campfire for breakfast. The Kummay's kitchen was currently part of someone's experiment so everything was served outside.

Rusti paused before attempting the hot cereal. "Where'd all the plants come from?" she asked no one.

"I dunno." another girl shrugged.

Rusti recognized Lucille and could not take another bite of food. "Ohmigod," she whispered. "Lucille?"

Lucille returned Rusti's expression. "Rusti? What happened to your hair-oh goodness! Look at your nails!"

Rusti spotted Daniel two ships away. She all but dropped her dish and dashed into the Hannibal's Mark, her heart pounding against her bones.

Rusti berated herself for being such a wimp.

She spied past the plank post to see if Daniel still advanced in her direction.

Kindly enough, Headmaster Pointblank caught Daniel and the two tumbled into conversation. Rusti slipped off the plank and scampered under the 'Mark. From there, she dashed behind other ships until she met the 'Horizon and scrambled aboard.

The girl squeezed into a corner and caught her breath, shuddering off the anxiety.

"Hey!"

Rusti squeaked and jumped then rolled her eyes as the goose bumps subsided. "Roddi."

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Oh, my dad's out there. I didn't want-you know."

"Yeah. I know. Though, I don't think he'll bother you for a while. "

She couldn't look at him. "I feel like a wuss."

The corners of Roddi's lip components tightened. "A smart person picks their own battles, Lady-friend.

"He's here, Commander," Quasar peeked in and Roddi stood.

"Is everyone here, now?'

"Not me." Quasar joked. She slipped in and tip-tapped her way into the adjoining room.

"What's going on, Roddi?"

"Bored meeting," Rodimus answered, emphasizing the appropriate word. Rusti smiled and wondered if anyone would scold her for finding a corner and sitting in. She quietly ran after him and slipped through the doors as they hissed shut.

All the head staff and one or two assistant-commanders sat around the table. Perceptor sat at the far-end seat, while a make-shift 3-D imager squatted on the table before him. Rusti could see the imager as long as Titanium did not lean back too far.

Convoy whispered something to Cloudstreaker who nodded in response. She looked uncomfortable and weary.

"Okey-dokey, Perceptor," Roddi called. "We're all audios."

"Ehem, thank you." Perceptor stood and straightened a digipad before beginning. "As unbelievable as it appears, time has accelerated by four point two years. The cause of this phenomena is unknown. Blaster, Redial and Ambience have all verified through interplanetary subspace radio that similar events have happened throughout this sector.'

'The strangest aspect, however, is all living things have aged; non-living things appear to be unaffected. This concludes that age is the only serious result of the time advancement."

Titanium leaned a little more forward permitting Rusti a clear view of several star systems from the imager. "Does that mean, Perceptor, that the ships and supplies might be undamaged?"

Quasar answered in his stead: "All supplies that are packed and preserved- like the organic food packs and cordial and high-ratio energon have remained intact. I talked to Trinket 'nd First Aid this morning. They said even medical supplies have been unaffected." Here Quasar caught Rodimus at optical contact. "It seems someone or something has kept watch over us."

Roddi took no comfort in it. Reliving a life-long nightmare, Rodimus knew it was a matter of time before he watched his people die.

Strike Back slumped in his seat, his face downcast in a scowl. "Great. That's nifty. So . . . why don't we head back to Earth? Maybe things have changed."

"Not likely to happen," Rodimus grunted.

Strike Back leaned forward. "Why?" he challenged. "Are you able to look into that . . . crystal ball of yours-the Matrix-and tell us what the Quints are doing? Cuz if not, chances are it'd be a good time to race back and kick their tentacles off our real estate. And as we just heard, everything's aged. All the humans are older, now."

Rodimus could not look Strike Back in the optic. He did not have to answer to the city commander. He knew nothing. Not a damn thing. "We don't have enough information-"

"Then why not send a reconnaissance?!"

"Chill out, man!" Jazz ordered. "We don't got the resources for that kinda mission yet and I for one ain't about to hang-tie some spark out in the middle a' nowhere while we got Quints doggin' our backsides."

"Jazz is right," Magnus agreed. "And I say we stay put, just a while longer and wait for Optimus Prime."

Strike Back exploded out of his chair, "ARE YOU PEOPLE CRAZY?! OPTIMUS PRIME IS MOST LIKELY DEAD AND YOU WANT TO WAIT FOR HIM?!"

"Sit down, Strike Back," Roddi was surprised he kept his own voice even.

"Na-uh, NO WAY! This is STUPID! We're dying out here! Or hadn't you noticed our casualties list lately?! We get our butts kicked, then we're tossed on this miserable, forsaken planet with creature-eating crystals, crappy weather and signs of an abandoned Decepticon base! And here **YOU** sit, staring off into NOWHERE, doing **NOTHING**!"

Rodimus turned wholly to the former Mars city commander. He was in no mood to start-or finish-an argument. "I SAID, SIT. DOWN."

Strike Back obeyed only because what crossed the Autobot leader's face frightened him.

Quasar saw it, too and shifted nervously in her chair. She wanted to examine Rodimus, wondering why-WHY First Aid and Perceptor did not do so earlier. She debated asking him here, but thought better of it.

Rodimus forced himself to calm and cast his optics on the table. His hand, however, flexed and fisted several times. He itched inside as though thousands of bugs crawled around his circuitry. "Jazz, see to it someone heads up a grass-cutting crew. If or when we take off, I don't want to start a fire. Mags, set up another aerial recon, would ya? Gryph, I'd like to know if we have anything that might be saleable or used to trade for goods and services. I don't care what it might be; equipment, tools, energon, even someone's fashionable underwear. To survive, we might need it later on."

Kup searched Roddi's face. "Rodimus, just how long do you think we'll be staying here?"

The room fell cold with anticipatory silence and Rusti hoped no one heard her breathe. Roddi finally looked up, glancing first at Magnus then Kup and finally at Jazz. Which one would he lose first? "Until I feel we can't."

Magnus frowned at the ambiguous statement.

"WHAT, MAGNUS?" Roddi growled. He did not meet the Major-General's optics.

Magnus tried to be subtle but Rodimus always saw right through it. Damn him! "Rodimus, it's easier if we can plan a specific time to leave-it takes a while to break camp."

Rodimus stared at Magnus like a snake.

Rusti covered her mouth, dying to say something but not daring to.

When Roddi spoke again, it came slow, icy. "You really screwed up, Magnus. You had a really great opportunity-more than once-to eliminate me and Prime." He stood, palms flat on the table surface, optics glowing toward purple. "We may all die."

Magnus felt pinned. Everyone's optics lay on him. "I tried, Rodimus. I really did." he watched Rodimus' optics narrow. "The Matrix would not let me."

Rusti inwardly moaned. Did he really have to say that?

Rodimus smirked, bowed and shook his head. "It's the Matrix's fault. It's Optimus' fault. It's Primus' fault-it's GOD'S FAULT!"

His optics darkened further and pushing his chair aside, Prime abandoned the room.

The table of Autobots sat in silence until Strike Back drew a deep breath. "He's right, Ultra Magnus. We need to stop relying on him and Optimus Prime so much. Our society is stifled. Relying on two unstable leaders and some artifact has led us nowhere. And like Rodimus admitted, he doesn't know what he's doing."

Magnus scowled. "It's more than an artifact, Strike Back. And Optimus and Rodimus are our leaders for a reason."

"Oh. I see they have you well-trained, Magnus. You'd do anything they ask. Would you murder for them, too?"

"Hey!" Jazz snapped. "That's enough!"

Magnus might have said something in his own defense, but the Major-General's thoughts were too preoccupied on Rodimus to dignify the younger Autobot's verbal challenges

Strike Back snorted and scowled. "Well, then, what about you, Jazz? How long have you followed Prime so blindly? It's all about that Matrix, is it not? We're all supposed to do what the Primes say because they have this . . . mystical hold over us. Why? What's so special about it? Does anyone know anything about the Matrix? Is it some chunk from a planet or did the Quintessons make it or what? Is it so sacred that we dare not ask ourselves about its history? GEEZE, PEOPLE! What if it's just a friggin' fancy circuit? Have you thought that maybe the Matrix is just a fake, a ploy to control the population; that it's just a tool used to perpetuate a lie?"

"IT'S NOT A LIE!" Rusti called from the floor.

Magnus buried his head. Everyone else reflected surprise.

Strike Back ducked under the table to find her and looked annoyed. "Tell me something, Miss Witwicky, are you so gullible that you'd do anything to protect our endearing leaders like their personal puppy dog?"

"You've got a mouth on you, Strike Back," the girl seethed. "And while your questions are valid, your motives are not. Don't think that no one else notices them.

"I'm hoping someone notices. I think we all need to question what our leaders are doing. How do we know they're not planning something that's detrimental? How can we even trust them? I think we should appoint someone to oversee their plans so that the rest of us know we're not being misled."

Gryph finally intervened at that point: "You speak like an insubordinate, Strike Back."

The Mars city commander leaned toward her. "We need to start thinking, not blindly follow someone else around."

Magnus shot him a dirty look. "No one is forced to remain, Strike Back. We're all free to come or leave at any time. You know that as well as anyone else."

Strike Back shrugged. "I dunno, Magnus. Never seen anyone actually try." he forced a laugh. "I mean, where would we all go, anyway? Back to Earth? Cybertron? Why does no one question what the two Primes do with their time and our resources? What was the reason for building so many cities on Earth? And why one on Mars?"

Titanium shook his head. "Not too bright a question there, Strike. It's rather obvious that the entire Autobot population could not fit in Fort Max."

Strike Back flashed his optics. "All I'm saying is that all that time and expense could have gone to programs, advancing our technology. Or better yet, setting up greater defenses against the Quintessons. Has anyone wondered WHY neither Prime thought about protecting us **from** the Quints? Why is it the two Primes find it so necessary to lord over us? Don't we have any say in what goes on in our own society?"

Rusti set her face hard and Magnus gathered his digipads. "Rusti . . . just . . . just don't answer him. Just leave it. Strike Back has a few valid-"

She blustered out the room before Magnus could finish.

Strike Back stood, annoyed himself. "For Primus' sake, what's WITH you all? Magnus, more than anyone here, you know how unpredictable and unstable those two are. And yet you stood by and let them trash Fort Max. what kind of city commander ARE you?'

Jazz jumped to his feet. "That DOES it, Strike Back! One more sound outta you and I'll invite you outside!"

"What?" Strike Back dared. "You're gonna hit me? Won't change my mind. How about the three of you?" he glanced from Gryph to Convoy to Titanium. "Are all of you so in awe of Rodimus and Optimus Prime that you'd follow them to whatever part of the Pitt they're headed for?"

Convoy darted angry looks his way. "I trust them, Strike Back. They might have problems, but I know they still care about us; that they'll do anything in their power to protect and provide for us."

Magnus aimed for the door then turned back to face Strike Back. "Let me think here, Strike Back. You're from Paratron, right? And for millions and millions of years, Paratron enjoyed peace and serenity, right? No one fought, they were all content."

"Yeah. So?"

"They also **looked** alike, **thought** alike-your whole culture stagnated under absolute utopianism. Your people **avoided** growth and change because it caused pain. And next time you want to criticize either Prime, be sure to ask them what kind of pain they're in."

Magnus departed, followed silently by Jazz, Convoy and Cloudstreaker.

* * *

Rodimus could not stay in the conference room one minute longer. Every single person in there pissed him off. No. it really wasn't them. Not Jazz and not Magnus and none of the ladies. But the moment Strike Back opened his mouth, Roddi's temper treaded on thin, melting ice.

It really was no one's fault. After visiting Arcee, Rodimus felt Faceless Darkness slowly stir within him. That Dark Thirst stirred to life and Rodimus needed to confront It. He needed to put Void in Its place.

He did not question the sanity of his decision. He did not consider how impotent he was compared to a life form that, honestly, had no classification. Roddi was simply sick to death of dealing with It.

Prime headed for the quietest ship, the Thermosphere. It was the least damaged, serving as southern shield and scan. Rodimus boarded the vessel, taking note a few Autobots occupied the ship, using it as a place to relax before attending night duty. Sitting at the controls board on the bridge, Rodimus inverted the shields without warning.

He hoped the shields would keep Void from affecting other areas of the camp.

Again, he did not consider the logic of his decision.

He turned to Springer, Streetwise and Doublecross. "Leave the ship. Now."

Springer and Crossy stared. Streetwise spotted a shadow creep along the floor; a dark long legs spread the length and breadth of the bridge.

Springer, who was less observant, only frowned. "What's a matter, Rod? Decided to put up a 'vacancy' sign and charge rent?"

Delaying cost them. Streetwise, who headed for the door might have made it had he been allowed to take two more steps. Every Autobot on board the Thermosphere mysteriously froze. The Thermosphere lost all power Humans and aliens abandoned the ship.

Rodimus maneuvered through the dark corridors within the Thermosphere. He needed neither light nor scanners to know where he was going. Void followed him, stretching along the walls and floor like a distorted yawn.

Somehow the Virus felt comfortable to Roddi; a temporary companion.

Come along, my little friend, my cold shadow.

He led the Virus into the largest meeting room and closed, locked and barred the door.

Wait. Wait for it.

Wait. Wait for it.

There. It watched him behind the wall from the far end of the room. It phased in; a two-dimensional abyss of darkness against the wall of the lightless room.

"Come on," Roddi beckoned softly. "I know you're after a bit of blood. Come on."

Void needed no encouragement. Its head darted at Rodimus like an arrow, silver-white teeth chittering.

Rodimus kicked the conference table away. It slammed the far side counter. He used his arm-weapons, perforating holes into three walls, shattering decorative paneling.

Enraged, the Virus shot out the metal crevices and tried to impale Rodimus with its tail. It snapped its long teeth in his face.

Tail smashed the metal tiles along the walls.

Teeth snapped, missed, snapped. Missed, snapped.

Legs pierced everything they stood on, puncturing great rents into the flooring.

Rodimus rolled, ducked and dodged. He considered leaping on its back like a demonic horse. But the Virus was not a pony to be petted and ridden. It melted into the ship's flooring, and disappeared altogether.

Rodimus stood alone. Dead silence filled the room. He could hear his own laser core vibrate. He thought he heard the energon rush through his body.

Come back and play, he thought. Round two.

A dark-silver spear shot up the floor, the sound like metal scratching black top. It sliced the air precious inches shy of the Autobot leader. Rodimus barely escaped and landed on two conference chairs. Another spike jutted from the floor, toppling Prime from his perch.

Rodimus crunched the floor on his upper back then rolled backward to keep moving. The second his feet touched the floor on a rebound, Void's head pierced through the metal panels, sharp teeth cracking. It missed Roddi again and slowly withdrew, like a sinister cobra recoiling for another spring. Rodimus took advantage of its leisurely withdrawal and kicked it for all his life was worth.

Not so good an idea.

Void burst back and clamped hard on Roddi's left thigh. Bright hot lasers flashed the dark room.

Void tossed Rodimus and he slammed the wall next to the door, leaving a nice imprint in the metal and a pool of fluids on the floor.

One step. Void grinded its teeth, the sound vibrated in the room like a million fingernails along an old chalkboard. Another step closer to Rodimus.

So very real. He remembered the first time the Virus attacked Optimus physically. Void was real, but Max could not detect it. It was a life form with no composition on which to base their scanners. Consequently, no weapon affected it. No sort of mind power defeated it. And another thought that terrified Rodimus more than facing this thing head on:

The reality of the situation was the Virus was gaining strength.

Rodimus came to before Void's head pierced his chest cavity. Void's face sank into the wall. A sickening, squealing sound eked through the room and Void growled, frustrated. Rodimus tried to kick its left leg to unbalance the Virus but the wound on his left leg impeded his impact.

It cost him.

Faster than Prime thought possible, Void caught Roddi's left side like a bear trap and all those horrendous teeth sank through his exostructure, puncturing vital components; into fluid lines, into softer interior and through infrastructure. The pain sent Rodimus straight into shock.

Void dropped him like a dead rat and bellowed in victory. It lowered its head again, and just gently tapped its teeth along Roddi's face, just enough to leave tiny scratch marks. It nibbled over his chin, down his chest, smearing life blood. It nudged his unresponsive form.

Then it purred.

* * *

Rusti could not leave the conference room fast enough. It was her own fault; she insisted attending matters that did not concern her.

Sitting at the ledge of the plank, the girl reflected the staff's attitude. They all just sat there and let Strike Back yammer on as if he had all the answers to the universe's ailments. It irritated her that Strike Back snapped at Roddi. What made him think he could handle things better than Optimus or Roddi?

And what was wrong with Magnus? Why didn't he put a stop to the bickering?

Seething, the girl hunched over, her chin resting on her hand as she watched the camp close down. The afternoon waxed old. The ugly brown sky rotted into a sullen red-orange.

Where was Roddi?

She lifted her eyes, searching the tops of all the ships. Two mornings ago (well, two mornings for her) She caught him sitting atop the Armored Crest.

No Roddi.

Rusti scowled and thought about returning to the Sunset when she caught sight of the Thermosphere. A smoky haze covered the double-decked ship in an eerie fog. In spite of common sense, Rusti aimed for it.

She stepped up the plank and wondered if anyone else in the camp knew the Thermosphere's power was offline. She peeked into the bridge on the right. Only outside light allowed her to see. She spotted Streetwise's silhouette, frozen like a paused image. There was Springer; a smart remark hung in his mouth. Crossy stared past the entryway.

Rusti left them and took the left lightless corridor. She knew exactly where to go.

The walls sagged on either side. The flooring under her weight gave in, cushioning her stride like a large pillow. Rusti closed her eyes and listened to the Thermosphere. All systems offline. Diagnostics doubled over in circular reasoning. It was fine. It was not. It was fine. It was not. The autopilot Logic centers smoldered, crisped by faulty realignment.

Conference Room B, Level 1 was nonexistent-or so the ship said.

Rusti needed no directions anyway. However, if Ultra Magnus knew where she headed-no, forget Magnus. **Optimus** was going to kill her.

The ship's conference doors stood resolute and imposing, although they dripped like melting wax. Rusti stared at them like a child before her parent's bedroom doors. Not all the ships were designed with Humans in mind.

Neither was a four-legged, faceless Virus. It slipped between the doors in a two-dimensional shape.

Rusti backed up, horrified by the sight. _Run away, Little Girl,_ something said inside, _Run! Run!_ but she ran before.

Not this time.

The Virus raised its head, stretching its neck ribbon-thin. Mouth open, teeth gleaming. It hissed.

Rusti did not look up. "What have you done to Rodimus?" Like staring into the hypnotic eyes of a serpent, Rusti knew better than to play Void's games.

Optimus hated mind games.

Void swung its surreal neck about the girl's shoulder and Rusti felt the Darkness breathe on her.

TWO. DOWN. ONE. LEFT.

"They're not dead." she answered. Now Rusti stared straight into its eyeless face. She searched for doubt, for a sense of reconsideration. No emotion. She took advantage of its hesitation, however. "You haven't won anything, haven't conquered anyone until they're both dead. **At the molecular level**."

The Virus retracted its head and backed off, its pin-point legs tapped on the metal flooring. The doors opened as Void backed into them. Rusti watched, intending to follow when Void snapped its teeth just millimeters from her face. Rusti squeaked and jumped.

It oozed into the flooring and she rushed into the room.

Ship systems returned to life but only at half-power. The jumbled conference room resembled a debris field. Something stripped the walls of all panels, revealing split lines and damaged circuitry. Holes and cracks pockmarked the ceiling and splintered furniture obstructed the floor. Rusti found Rodimus lying under a heap of busted chairs, broken wall panels and a hulking shattered conference table.

Sometimes she really hated being small.

Squeezing between two badly bent chairs and climbing over a sharp piece of metal, Rusti sat on its dangerous topside.

Balancing herself along the ledge, she slipped her gloves on before jumping down. The gloves scraped along jagged edges and Rusti was thankful she had the foresight to put her suit on earlier.

She hit bottom-and landed on her bottom. She stood and assessed the area, finding there'd be no escape for her if Roddi decided she was a bug needing to be squished.

But Roddi's condition, revealed by dim light, assured her the Autobot leader was not even capable of lifting his hand, let alone swat her. The girl climbed over an arm and tried to find his optics.

Damn. She leaned against his helm just under the spoiler. He was bleeding badly and hot to the touch.

_You can't help or save me, Rusti. Not this time, Lady-friend. I feel it crawling inside me._

She rounded his form, finding tears on his face plates. _Time is running out, Rusti. I think the time-ahead-thing has done something to the blocking chip._

Rusti laid her hands on his helm and gazed into his deep purple optics. "Optimus **will** get here! We'll be okay."

Roddi dimmed his optics. A tear plashed the floor at her feet. _We have been abandoned._

"NO!" Rusti hit him. "If we had been abandoned, You'd already be DEAD!"

Magnus was going to kill her. But she had to call him.

"He's . . . you're **where**?"

"In the Thermosphere, Ultra Magnus. Conference Room B. Level one." she heard the city commander fire orders left and right, his voice firm and steady. She almost cut the comline when he came back to her.

"Rusti, just don't move. Don't touch him and don't do anything stupid."

Rusti blinked and lined her lips. Oops. On all three accounts. She wasn't sure if she should say something now, or wait until he arrived.

She did not have any time to debate her predicament. The doors-which closed when she was not looking, were forced open by Magnus.

"Stop arguing with me, Strike Back and look for the girl!" Magnus snarled.

"I'm here, Ultra Magnus!" she called.

Dead silence. Then:

"How the Pitt-? Never mind. I don't want to know. Crossy, help me here."

Rusti leaned against Roddi's shoulder while the other Autobots lifted heavy metal tiles, broken chairs and had to unweld parts of the table to make enough room for an anti-grav stretcher.

Rusti barely felt the vibration of Rodimus' laser core. Magnus and Doublecross lifted the table when someone came in to report an accident. Magnus asked Strike Back to handle it-which he did, but not without a short complaint.

Finally the table lifted and Rusti glanced into four pairs of worried optical sensors. She stepped back as Trinket scanned the Autobot leader.

The femme sighed, frustrated. "All I'm getting is high temp readings. There's no indication of damage.

"Just get him the hell out of here." Magnus snarled.

* * *

Rusti sat hunched, hugging her knees by the Spiral Star's medbay door. Not a word came from either Trinket or Perceptor for over twenty minutes. How long does it take to scan an Autobot, anyway? Rusti's anxiety did not help her impatience and she reminded herself over and over that it wasn't just an Autobot they were attending, but Roddi. The girl buried her head between her knees, her red hair showered over her shoulders.

Magnus stood nearby, leaning against a bulkhead. He mulled over the moment, torn between staying on Cratis for Optimus Prime's sake and leaving Cratis to find help for Rodimus-if in fact help could be found. The Major-General finally sat next to the girl (not really a girl anymore, he thought; she's twenty-one).

"Erm . . . you know, Rusti, you could have been badly injured by going alone. There's no telling what Rodimus could have done to you."

She studied him from under the ridge of her brows. Her stare made him just a little uncomfortable until she blinked slowly. "I can't afford to be afraid of him, Ultra Magnus. If I lose one, I'll lose both."

"I'm just concerned about you," he paused, finding it hard to ask the next question. "How are you, anyway? Has the Virus affected you?"

Rusti flushed and wondered herself. "Do you think it could?"

"I'm hoping it won't."

She considered a moment longer, reflecting on thoughts she ignored a long time ago. Like the Music. "I think, Ultra Magnus, that the Virus - Void . . . is as aware of me like I am of it. And it . . . it talks to me. But an outright attack? No."

"How so? Why do you think that's the case?"

The answer made her cold inside and Rusti swallowed hard. Her eyes burned with oncoming tears. "Because it's still feeding off Roddi and Optimus." tears tumbled over her nose and lips. She sniffed and wiped the side of her face with the back of her hand.

EDC specialist Tessa Gordman dashed into the corridor, breathless. "Ultra Magnus," she wheezed..

Kup beat her to the news over the comline: "WE GOT INCOMING!"

The piercing whines of weaponry sailed overhead and the ground shook, teetering the medical ship slightly to port.

Magnus snapped up like one stricken from a dream.

A mumble of thunder forced the city commander off his feet. "Rusti, I want you to head straight for the Frostbite."

The mutter of other thunders vibrated against the ship's floor plates. Rusti stood against the wall. "I can't leave Rodimus!"

Magnus put his foot down-literally. "Just ONCE do as YOU'RE TOLD!"

She stared at him and knew he was right. There was nothing she could do for Roddi. Rusti bolted outside and passed the Interrogator, heading for the Frostbite while Magnus leapt out, transformed and shot for the front line.

Rusti slipped on her helm while EDC Captain Kennedy shooed several children under the Interrogator's belly.

"Ling!" she called one boy, "you take Alisa's hand RIGHT NOW!"

But it was Alisa who was less than cooperative and the young boy stared at her, confused.

BOOM!

The ground blew not many yards from them and sprayed the Interrogator with a rain of dirt and grass. Two young girls screamed while Alisa stared defiantly at Ling who glanced helpless at Captain Kennedy.

An unknown vessel zoomed dangerously low, its engines rattled bones and nerves. Rusti grabbed Ling's hand but Alisa pulled away. Having no patience, Rusti swept the girl up and made a run for the Frostbite.

Another barrage of laser fire tore up the ground and peppered the starboard wing of the Interrogator just as Rusti and the captain made it inside.

Alisa pulled away and squeezed into the nearest, darkest corner she could find. Kennedy situated the children into safe holds in the floor and gave them blankets and pillows for comfort.

Duros tramped in leading another group of women and children and pointed to other safe holds. "Quickly now," he urged, "we need to get the shields up!"

Two women clutched toddlers to their bodies as they dropped into the holds. They waited while Pinpointer covered Kennedy and her group first.

"Are you alright?"

Rusti startled and faced Dr. Arcana. "No," she answered truthfully. "What's going on?"

"Air raid." He turned as Duros shut down the force field as a group of adults quickly boarded. Their faces registered fear, even though their movements did not. Rusti backed behind Dr. Arcana. At first he was going to ask her what was wrong, then spotted the problem:

One of the newcomers was Daniel.

Rusti could not look him in the eye. Why did he have to chose **this** ship? Then she was angry with herself. Why should she be afraid?

The ship rocked softly and fear froze everyone's sentences and movements. They listened intently to the soft thud of distant and approaching explosions and the roar of jet engines as they soared too close to the refugee camp.

* * *

It was Silverbolt who first took action. He swore on Primus' optic relays that he heard Decepticon engine rhythms. Slingshot thought him mad and jeered. But the sober-minded Aerialbot leader would not be swayed. He took a glance at Blades and shot to the skies. Air Raid had a better head between his shoulder struts than Slingshot. He copied Silver, flying casual, but maintained a sensor at every direction.

Sure enough, a clear, strong signal zoomed right for them from the southeastern horizon.

Air Raid zipped into view then shot past without regard to air-space.

"What on Cybertron was THAT?" Air Raid broadcasted to his commander.

Silverbolt did not have time to answer. A second flier boomed by and the first one fired on the camp. Air Raid dropped hard then bolted up, catching the second attacker on the underside. They boosted into the mesosphere and rolled before dropping again. Air Raid held his position at one point, transformed robot-form and fired at the attacker from above.

A Decepticon symbol shone darkly in the Cratian sun and Air Raid's core lost a vibration. After all these years, how?? Who were these Decepticons and why were they here?

Skydive joined Silverbolt on the fierce Decepticon invader. The first 'Con proved far more evasive than Air Raid's target. Silverbolt chased it to the sloping hills north of the camp while Sky Dive prodded it as far north-west as he could. But the flier, an angular jet with two-pronged nose, shot straight up, spun once then transformed and shot at Silverbolt.

The Aerialbot leader dropped to the right. Skydive sped forward as though abandoning Silver to the fight. The Decepticon dumped altitude, following Silverbolt toward the sloping hills. But Skydive snapped back on the scene, appearing almost from nowhere and surprised the 'Con with his speed rather than opening fire.

Taking advantage of Skydive's diversion, Silverbolt zapped the 'Con with a net of electric waves.

The Decepticon roared, folded back into jet mode and made a U-turn for the camp. Skydive punched in the speed and made a tough call: he transferred as much power and 'juices' into his weapons as he could with just enough reserves to land.

Skydive fired at the 'Con, flew through the deadly explosive heat, discovered he miscalculated and blacked out before crashing.

The death of Silverbolt's attacker signaled the onslaught. Fresh fighters raced in and zipped past the refugee camp before circling back. The Aerialbots took on the challenge. Other Autobots, like Dogfight, Blades, Cloudburst, and Velocity, put their faith in Silverbolt's leadership. And rather than merely chasing the oncoming air-borne Decepticons, they enticed the fliers from the camp and picked them off one or two at a time.

One Decepticon, however, veered hard to port and barrel-rolled straight up, then hammer-headed directly down.

"Can you believe this guy?" Skydive gasped. He kept his distance from the show-off watching for a weakness in the 'Con's flying abilities. But the talented Decepticon did not miss a cue-that is until he fired at the camp. Skydive took note how his opponent sputtered as it pulled up from a tight and sudden drop. Skydive did not see the Speedster was badly damaged. He circled the camp once, waiting for the Decepticon raider to return and finish his job.

Skydive was not disappointed. Not only did the Decepticon return, but brought a buddy. The two swept into a broad loop, preparing for a strafe along the southern ships. Air Raid pulled a tight snap-roll and shot hard and fast between the two Decepticons, distracting their objective. One shouted profanity at the Autobot, transformed and fired at Skydive.

It was a mistake, however. Paratron Velocity from Fort Sonix saw the little show of chicken-bot and fired a set of anti-polarizing cluster bombs in their direction. The first antagonist managed to evade the bombs, but his partner, now transformed and firing bad shots at Skydive, got it in the right hip plate. He tumbled end-over-end, crashed hard and left a dark trench in his path.

Fireflight joined Silverbolt, Air Raid and Slingshot into a short diamond formation directly above the Autobot camp. They stayed tight, allowing Dogfight to sneak under them from the southeast. Dog sprayed bullets into the nose cones of three oncoming adversaries. Slingshot kept his scanners on two 'Cons approaching North-east.

"Why don't we just form Superion and bash con brain?" he asked impatiently.

There's too many targets, Slingshot," Silverbolt answered. "And I will NOT risk any further endangerment to the camp. Slingshot, back-flip and take that bird out. Fireflight, I want a knife-edge strafe right between those two coming in at eleven forty-five."

"You got it!" Fireflight tipped his wings so he flew on his side. He just managed to slip between the two 'bad guys' and smoked them with fire fog. Utilizing a tight hairpin turn, Fireflight transformed and shot two short bursts at the 'cons. One burst went wild in the air current, missing one opponent. The second burst ignited the other Decepticon.

The one Fireflight missed, floored altitude and swept the ground so low his engines caught the grasses afire. He shot straight up, using an extra set of turbines. Silverbolt half-rolled to avoid collision. But Air Raid could not move that fast. He cut engines and dropped aft-cold, falling belly-up to prevent catastrophe. But his maneuver, as brilliant as it was, left him wide open and his interceptor took advantage of the moment, unfolding into robot form. He fired, spraying Air Raid with acid-ridden magnetic pellets.

Air Raid cried out and transformed but landed flat on his back.

He did not move.

As fearful as he was for Air Raid, Silverbolt did not have the luxury to check on his friend. He called Air Raid's name over and over until the Concord himself almost collided with another Decepticon.

The 'Con, an ugly, crab-like design, laughed as it madly raced one Cuban-eight maneuver after another over the refugee camp.

"One little birdy down DYING!"

Silverbolt was painfully aware of several other battles going on simultaneously. He regretted they could not regroup and attack from another position.

Two down-and there went Velocity.

First things first, the Aerialbot commander decided: he waited, circling the southern half of the Autobot encampment while Wile E. Decepti-conee completed his latest Cuban-eight. Then just as the loud-mouth approached Silverbolt's airspace, the Aerialbot dropped to a hammer head, came a painful ten feet from the ground, transformed and kicked the Decepticon's underside just as the jerk passed overhead. The incredible maneuver caused several others to cease-fire and break combat formation to give enough room to the 'con as it rolled wing-over-wing out of control.

"YEAH!" Slingshot praised. "Kickin' aft and stacking body shells!"

The shock of the moment gave just what the Autobots needed and the two sides automatically realigned like pieces on a chessboard, ready for another killer game. But the numbers were greatly in Decepticon favor.

RAH-BOOM.

It rumbled from a short distance on land. Maybe as far away as the acid-water river.

RAH-BOOM. Closer. The Decepticon side cheered.

Back-up had arrived. And on the ground, Magnus arranged all Autobots to battle formation with the heavy-weight fighters at the forefront. He ordered Crosshairs to assist Britannia and Delta to retrieve the wounded fliers from outside the camp.

RAH-BOOM.

Not quite like thunder. More like a huge car wreck without squealing brakes. Convoy picked out the intermittent klink-klang of metal between each step. Either the oncoming warrior was huge like a pre-historic guardian robot, or it had incalculable mass.

Convoy's second guess was the right one. From the distance, the monster in question was not much taller than Grimlock, but he had greater mass and as such, his footfalls resounded across the landscape like bad news manifested in physical form.

Most of the Autobots stared dumbfounded at the oncoming behemoth and two of its companions.

Grimlock gripped his sword tightly. "Me, Grimlock, see big football player."

Doublecross next to him softly stamped the grass beneath her. "I get first dibs," she called.

Grimlock snorted. "NOT happening," he growled. "Me, Grimlock, king of oversized serious Godzilla gurus, here. Her, Rusti, even says so."

Doublecross' two heads gawked at Grimlock as if the Dinobot just spat out the entire equation for string-theory physics.

"Autobots!" Magnus' voice came over inter-personal com links. "Organized advance."

Grimlock snorted again. He was not about to allow some panty-waist, badge-waving Magnus to spoil his fun. He almost tuned Magnus out.

"Grimlock, take the lead. Sludge, right flank of Grimlock. Slag, left flank. Snarl, Doublecross, Repugnus, center-flank back-up. Titanium, Physix, Tektonix, checker-board behind Repugnus and Doublecross."

The aerial battle re-engaged; aircraft streaked back and forth. Missiles whooshed through the air and landed with a burst either on the ground or against a target.

Just as the Decepticon ground troops entered visual range, Grimlock rallied the charge.

* * *

As the battlefield thundered, First Aid, Perceptor and Trinket used all their tricks to revive and patch their leader's damaged form. Rodimus registered no life signs. For all they knew, he might as well not even be lying on their table. His optics that should have been dark blue, sunk into purple.

He was there; he was not. He was alive; he did not exist. First Aid shut his scanner off and shoved it aside, fuming.

Perceptor visibly cringed over his friend's frustration. Bombs softly thudded in the distance and the ship's lights flickered. Trinket turned away, disheartened.

Perceptor gripped the table edges, optics frozen on its metal surface. "We cannot simply abandon him."

First Aid, usually the most even-tempered Autobot, rested his head on the corner of the nearby cabinetry. "I'm open to suggestions. Even if it's an Earth witch doctor."

Trinket stared deep into Roddi's optics and briefly wondered about his real age. A few hours ago, Quasar confided to Trinket her feelings about Rodimus and how they should have scanned their leaders a long time ago.

But that wasn't the problem at all. It was the lack of technology available. The Virus, whatever it might be, was a thing beyond them.

Trinket stood straight and looked to her colleagues: "what about a psychic? We must have someone with that ability here."

Perceptor's voice remained leveled, sad. "No one has conveyed to me regarding the likelihood of anyone else possessing such an ability at any level. However, Rusti Witwicky does have some skill. But I am reluctant to include her in this situation. She may not have the objectivity necessary for an accurate deduction.

First Aid released his brooding and turned to the femme. "There is someone, but I'm not sure if she'd be willing to help: Jasmine Goodwin."

"Negative!" Perceptor objected. "She's hardly rational! Dr. Arcana can barely keep her sedated."

"No. The **other** one."

That Jasmine sat in solitude on board the Vertical Horizon. She adamantly refused to follow survivors to the Frostbite. After biting two would-be rescuers, they finally left the deranged, dying woman to her own fate. Jasmine sat in the stellar chart room upon the dais, twenty feet off the ground. For hours at a stretch, her eyes searched the holographic projection and on occasion, called the ship's computer to identify a star or a solar system.

A cup of hot tea, long since cold, sat untouched by her right. A plate of uneaten crackers squatted on the left. Before her lay a tablet of plain paper and a pencil. Sixteen pages of drawings filled the tablet with faces of things never seen on Earth. Jasmine insisted they existed and once spoke the language of one such creature.

As she stared at the stellar projection, her eyes cast far into depicted constellations as though she could see further than what was really there. Names of planets and stars glared back at her. They spoke volumes and Jasmine could not capture them all. She wrote down what was most important. She drew what she judged to be vital to future knowledge. Then she'd stare for hours more.

The stellar room doors opened and Goodwin blinked. When she spoke, it came as an eerie, cold whisper. **"It will do you no good. I will not be moved."**

Trinket stepped in as quietly as her metallic foretoes permitted. "Miss Goodwin? I'm sorry to bother you. We need your help."

No response.

"Please. It's for Roddi."

**"He rides a demonic horse."**

"We were wondering if you'd come and help us figure out what to do."

Jasmine softly sang to herself: **"Two Autobot leaders walking on the line . . . "**

"Miss Goodwin, we don't even know if Roddi is really alive or not."

**"One fell off and lost his mind . . ."**

"There's been no news of Optimus Prime. For all we know, he might be dead, too."

**"God called the doctor but the devil chimed . . ."**

"And we're afraid whatever happens to them might affect Rusti Witwicky."

**" . . .Just move on and leave them behind. Mmmhmmm. Hmmmhmmm."** Jasmine rolled her glassy brown eyes at Trinket. She did not look like she was coherent enough to hold a discussion. **"Miss Trinket,"** she whispered. **"Did you call yourself that?"**

The Autobot femme gave Goodwin a horrified but disconcerted expression. "Miss Goodwin-Jasmine, we really-"

**"Lying to me will do you no good. HA!"** And her usual voice returned. "The galaxy is falling under alien control and you're worried about a single girl?"

Jasmine stood. Her clothes hung about her in tatters. Her arms displayed self-inflicted bite marks. Her long hair clung to her head in a matted mess. Trinket did not know the former EDC officer personally, but from what she understood, Jasmine Goodwin was an excellent officer, level-headed and a good pilot. Her husband did not survive the escape from Earth.

Jasmine tipped her head to the right, her thin lips turned in a pout. "What is not terrible is death and dying. Not terrible at all. What is terrible is the truth about the universe."

Trinket knew time slipped past them. Already sounds from the battlefield clamored, the whistles of bombs sounded more like death knells. The roar of the Dinobots sent surges through her body. She had the impulse to just swipe the woman up and run. But she did not know the consequences of such an action.

Jasmine turned back to the projection and with a remote control, zoomed into a far off galaxy dominated by hot gaseous nebula and a star cluster radiating with pulsars. She lifted her voice as though now in a classroom. "Rod Serling had no idea how close he was to the truth when he spoke about the Fifth Dimension: that of the imagination. All living, sentient creatures breathe life into things unimaginable without realizing all too often they are merely peeking into other dimensions and drawing them out for others to witness."

Jasmine's eyes drifted over her left shoulder to Trinket, her face expressionless.

Trinket was officially spooked. She stole one step back and dared a second when Jasmine's right eye sparked. Maybe it was nothing, maybe the Autobot femme just thought she saw it. But it was enough to make her change her mind about Goodwin.

"That reminds me, my dear," Jasmine returned. "Did you not say something about Rodimus Prime?"

Trinket returned to Perceptor and First Aid with Jasmine perched on her shoulder. She deposited the psychic on a counter top across the table Roddi occupied. Jasmine tried to straighten her matted, messy hair. Her eyes shot from the scientist to the Autobot doctor before settling on Prime.

With a deep breath, she sat on a box of tools. Emotion vacated her expression as she concentrated on Rodimus. Out the corner of her eye she acknowledged Trinket as the femme drew up a chair. First Aid remained dutifully standing as Perceptor also took a seat. The room fell quiet of speech and movement even as the battle roared outside the camp.

**"Differentiation of personality,"** Jasmine whispered to herself. **"Optimus? No. Inconceivable."**

No one dared interrupt her, even when her eyes rolled to the back of her head, even when her form went rigid. She hissed inward. "I don't know what that thing is! I don't know where it's from! Manufactured? Or old as time? Old, or made? Old, or made?" she whispered incoherently before raising her voice so the Autobots could hear: "No, both: **mutated**. And it keeps . . . it keeps growing, growing. **Filthy thing**. What frequency are you on? Is that Alpha-protonic, or . . . gamma-protonic? **We'll keep looking. Keep . . . looking**." her voice fell into a soft hum.

Jasmine slipped from the reality of her surroundings and her mind fell through the cosmos of memory. She traveled from world to world, recalling all those planets she studied from star charts. She jumped from name to name: Orvos, Drem, Tortim, Simindar, Relquim . . . and it jumped dimensions.

Filthy thing.

**It keeps jumping. . .**

* * *

Rodimus fancied himself as a boy with tussled red hair and freckles bridging his nose like little dots of playfulness.

Mischief should have been his middle name and his older sister sometimes said so. He recalled once in the eighth grade how he tossed toad droppings through the girl's bathroom window at school during lunch break. That bit of nastiness was immediately followed by the toads themselves and a few polliwogs to boot. Girls poured out the restroom like ants with their nest set afire. The other boys treated him akin to some superhero.

The principal, however, was less than amused and drove Roddi straight to the office where the boy's father worked.

Not such a good thing. Mr. Prime grounded his son for three weeks thereafter. No video games or skateboards. But Mr. Prime was sort of a softy and while he grounded his son for one thing, he did take Roddi out to ice cream for a bit of father-son time.

That was pretty damn cool. (Not that Roddi would EVER cuss in front of his dad.)

They ordered two large, double-scoop ice cream cones at the park. They sat in front of the river, watching three toddlers with their mothers feed a group of starving ducks. The warm September air gave the day a somewhat summer laziness and after a while, Mr. Prime's gaze drifted into and past the towering city buildings.

Roddi had an issue he needed to discuss with his father. Two weeks ago he was digging through old stuff in the attic and discovered a secret. Of course, Roddi knew better than to sneak into things he had no business being in, but the attic begged for exploration. His mother certainly would not be happy about it, which was why Roddi thought about talking to his father, first. Dad was a guy; he'd understand the itch of curiosity. But the subject matter was touchy and Roddi tried to think of the best way to approach his father.

Mr. Prime was a kind and thoughtful man, and he expected his son to be clearheaded, civil and gentlemanly. After all, Roddi was currently the only boy in the family. Rodimus put his trust into his father's understanding.

"Dad?" Roddi's voice chimed strong and sweet to his father's ears. "I have to tell you something. It's really important."

Mr. Prime gave his son all the attention and support a caring, understanding father should.

Rodimus took that to heart and gathered his courage. "I just found out that I'm part Decepticon. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Mr. Prime thought the moment through with care and dabbed ice cream from the corner of his son's mouth. "Should I punish you for being different? Does that mean you are not my son?"

"No." Roddi squeezed his face together, struggling to think. "I um, I was up in the attic and I found an old dusty book full of pictures 'nd stuff. And one of the pictures had some Decepticons in it. Does that make us Decepticon? Am I part Decepticon and am I going to get into trouble for being up there?"

Mr. Prime smiled mostly to himself. The call of curiosity. He and his own father traveled the mysteries of his mother's attic. They found ancient wedding clothes, baby toys, old tools and even an ugly broken lamp. "No, Rodimus. You're not in trouble. And yes, it's true. As for getting into trouble, you've already done that today. Other than that, your heritage is inconsequential compared to your future duty to take care of the Autobots. You're part of MY family and that means you have a responsibility."

"But I didn't ASK for that responsibility."

"I know, Rodimus. Nobody does. But if you were not able to handle it, you would not have been chosen. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so."

"Then eat your ice cream, son and let's get back."

* * *

Void scoffed, FOOLISHNESS. WORTHLESS. ALL THINGS FUTILE. YOUR LIFE EXPENDABLE. YOUR LIFE. INCONSEQUENTIAL. YOUR DEEDS . . . USELESS.

Rodimus saw the truth of it. A day would come when all he worked for, all he cared about would fade to nothing; his name reduced to a word in some ancient history book never read. His suffering and sacrifice, long since forgotten. After all, he was nothing more than a simple single-celled animal in light of the greatness of the cosmos.

Completely and totally inconsequential.

Ultimately, it meant that Rodimus and every other sapient creature was worth nothing.

Sprawled along the depth of his despair, Roddi managed to recall something Ambassador Koontah said; something about Foreknowledge; his own role among the Autobots and Forgiveness.

And if he accepted that Forgiveness, did that not mean there was more to life than material, visible existence?

Rodimus smiled. Of course there was. The Virus was deceiving him. Liar, Roddi snarled inwardly.

NEGATIVE. LIFE . . . ACCIDENTAL. LIFE EXPIRES. YOU. DESPAIR. LAMENT. EXPIRE.

**"LIAR!"** Roddi exploded to life. He jumped to his feet, teetering the exam table. He kicked away overhead lights, terrified Jasmine and shocked First Aid, Perceptor and Trinket.

Perceptor fell backwards and scuttled away as a gruesome shadow bled along the wall behind Jasmine. She screamed when Void's head stretched outward. It's long angular head lengthened disproportionate to its flat neck. It hissed at Rodimus.

**"LIAR!"** Rodimus was completely heedless of his surroundings and did not see Jasmine stand on the counter near his feet. She held her palms flat toward him and struggled against a barrier of psychic energy. But she could not penetrate it. Rodimus' mental wall was far greater, far stronger than anything she encountered.

Worse yet, something else, something terrible and filthy rammed against it. It turned to her for a moment but regarded her not more than a mere bug.

Jasmine mentally recoiled. This was a war in which she could not afford to intervene.

**"LIAR!"**

Void refused rejection. It shot out like a bullet and slammed into Roddi's chest. He crashed on the exam table with such force it yanked the table off its foundation.

On board the Frostbite, Rusti collapsed with a skull-cracking migraine.

In Concentric City, Optimus staggered and blacked out as Galvatron caught him.

At the battlefield, Magnus stopped dead in his tracks, clutching his chest. He noticed for the briefest of moments, the entire Autobot army hesitated, looking confused with sudden pain.

Rodimus lay unconscious on the floor, the broken table toppled nearby.

Trinket stood, shuddering. Perceptor dared not move. First Aid crawled toward their fallen leader, hoping to help, but not knowing how.

Rodimus' optics dimmed on. He searched deep within himself, within the Matrix; the central life system of his people. He was not going to be defeated so easily. If the damned Virus intended to swallow him, Roddi wanted to make sure he shredded its vile gullet. Roddi descended down, down into the nether regions of the Matrix and resurfaced with a final shred of inner strength.

It did not harm or destroy the Virus. It did not prevent Void from taking control over Rodimus' body. But it did keep Rodimus from losing every aspect of who and what he was. In that regard, Void lost.

But the world changed for Rodimus. Grey shadows dampened all color. The light was not so bright. And treasured moments of peace and happiness were clouded by memories and thoughts of grief and suffering.

Roddi stood. It was time to join the others. He stepped over First Aid's outstretched arm, unable to hear the medic's call.

It was time to hunt.

* * *

The shriek of bombs and bullets whistled through the air like a bombardment of fireworks. On board the Frostbite, Children held their breath as they huddled close to their guardians and parents. Fortunately, most explosions and attacks thudded far from the ship.

More people attended the view screen, now. Three other Autobot ships broadcasted the events outside. Several EDC officers, a few Autobots and most civilians watched the battle in dire, silent trepidation. Their hopes hung on each slim victory. Minutes turned to tormenting hours. The sound of explosions ticked the time away; the fighting and dying outside seemed surreal.

Rusti hugged herself into a corner, watching the battle outside between other adult bodies as they stood or sat in an agitated state. Her body shook slightly as Delta took a shot to the back, the conquering robot howled in victory and kicked the femme aside.

Sideswipe jumped to her rescue and rammed into the Duocon's back. They rolled along the ground and wrestled out of visual range.

Titanium took on two alien-animal Decepticons simultaneously. They charged and the great Autobot kicked one in the face while he grabbed the other with huge hands. As the second horned beast tried to puncture him with saber teeth, the first beast rebounded and charged with all its might. Titanium twisted his body just so, keeping hold of the one and kicked up the second, sending it flying just high enough to grab it by his free hand.

The alien animals snarled and squirmed in his grip. One tried to spit acid, missing their enemy by quite a ways. Titanium held them apart as though lifting weights then cracked their craniums together. The shaggy things tumbled to the ground. Titanium took the moment to check the charge on his twin magna-pulse rifle. He did not see the animal bodies split down the middle and crack open like a pair of fuzzy clams.

Two smaller robots crawled out the animal shells and conjoined just as Titanium looked up. The two Pretenders became a Duocon and the Decepticon gave Titanium a right-cross to remember him by.

The tall Autobot rolled, recovered his stance and drew his ion sword. It crackled red and he held it back as the Duocon charged anew. With a good swipe, he sliced the Duocon in half and without losing momentum, kicked away an oncoming Pretender.

The second Pretender fell over dead. Rewind appeared from Titanium's right side and kicked the oversized fluffy alligator before giving Titanium a thumbs-up.

After watching for another ten minutes, Rusti could not watch anymore. She could not tune out the sounds around them, the explosions, the distant rumble of heavy metal feet or the falling bodies, but she did not have to watch. People crowded tightly in the bridge and if she wanted privacy, peace and quiet, Rusti was forced to find it elsewhere.

She abandoned the corner and wound her way between anxious, tense refugees. To her annoyance, Rusti found the adjoining corridor just as crowded with those who could not get on the bridge or wanted to stay close to the exit in case of emergency evacuation.

Fearful eyes followed her and Rusti pretended she saw no one, noticed nothing. She turned a right-hand corner and across the way spotted Daniel. Rusti wished she had not.

He sat slumped in the shadows, a dark blanket eclipsed much of his form from the light. Daniel sat hunched staring into nothing. A strange look carved into his visage; a gruesomeness that picked out the wrinkles and hard lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. His brows lay heavy with thoughts of bedded wrath. His shoulders came too close to his chin like a cat ready to lunge. The muscles under his eyes twitched and Rusti hoped no one bothered him because Daniel looked ready to kill.

KRA-VOOOM!!!

The ship rocked, but did not tip. A few people cried with fear and clutched one another for assurance.

Rusti's heart raced as one explosion followed another three times over. A jet roared too closely above them. She hit the wall with her back and scrunched down, arms over her head, head between her knees as the ship's systems blinked off then returned. The vessel stabilized as missiles and bombs fade to the background. Rusti rounded more bodies to put better distance between herself and Daniel.

From the opposite end of the corridor, Lt. Affernaugh stepped about the crowd, checked the length and breadth of the passage, glanced from one small group to another. "Steady there, people," he called, "Just stay calm." He met Rusti's eyes and sent her an assuring wink.

She forced herself to smile.

Bit by bit people settled down again as Affernaugh picked his way around, asking this person and that how they were doing. Wisely enough, he made no promises about the battle's outcome.

No sooner had he taken fifteen steps from Rusti than shots and hits yelped and whistled above them. The ground thudded time and over again. Another pounded too close, rocking the Frostbite.

That was when it hit Rusti. White-hot light exploded behind her eyes and stabbed her to the core. Rusti lost the ability to breathe. She felt her bones crack, her blood coagulated and her innards constricted. She crumbled, grateful for the floor's cooler temperature.

Voices panicked about her. Someone shouted her name. Fingers pinched her nose and as annoying as it was, she could not resist.

Air forced its way into her lungs.

Again.

Again.

A powerful fist struck the center of her chest, crushing her heart.

The Virus hissed. Its long shadow retreated from the back of her mind. Rusti had no idea it was even there.

Did someone say she was bleeding?

Quiet, now. Shhhh. Quiet.

She heard it, felt it speak. The Frostbite knew her name. But that was ridiculous. Ships don't know. They're just bodies with a computer and a propulsion system. The girl inwardly winced at herself. Isn't that what people are, too? A brain at the top, toes below and everything else in between.

Be quiet. What was the Frostbite saying? Shields holding at ninety-two percent. Decepticons approaching from the south.

Decepticons approaching from the south? The Frostbite tried to alert them but something was wrong. The ship could not warn them.

Decepticons were approaching.

Rusti blacked out.

* * *

By genuine will power, Slingshot managed to maintain enough altitude and balance to stay alive. The last dogfight crippled the Aerialbot leaving nice large holes in his left wing and tail. Snapping short circuits whipped pain throughout Slingshot's components and his automatic systems insisted he land and shut down. Instead, Slingshot struggled to revert to robotic mode. He should not. He'd hear about it from First Aid or some other fortress medic later.

If he died, at least he'd go down fighting. He managed easy enough a landing, even if it was straight on his belly and even if it was among a patch of gruesome thorn bushes.

The Aerialbot managed to complete transformation and forced himself up on hands and knees. He'd get lectured about moving with an injury. Hot liquid milked down the insides of his chest, smooth and brief. That could not be good. Right leg forward.

Good.

Left leg-ow.

"OW!!!"

Slingshot's shout was promptly followed by a string of negatives. He grasped a breath. Silverbolt would have been embarrassed over those words.

Then Slingshot laughed. At least it wasn't as bad as Magnus! NO one could be THAT bad!

"Awe, lookit! Little glop of grease groaning over his widdle booboo."

Slingshot forced his optics upward and faced the Decepticon standing before him, gloating, grinning, red optics glowing.

It's bad policy to show weakness to any Decepticon at any time. Slingshot grinded gears and forced himself to stand. He stood as straight as he could.

"Awe, lookit," the Aerialbot mocked. "It's a Decepticon! Tall, dark and pin-headed."

That did not go over well. 'Dark and Pinheaded' lunged for the mouthy Aerialbot and Slingshot managed just out of the way. Pain could not be stifled forever and extracted a price. This melee could not last too many rounds.

New tactics.

Slingshot studied Dark and Pin-Headed for open areas, bad habits, anything to give him a half a chance. The Con shot at him. Slingshot dodged, hit the ground and grabbed several good-sized stones. Pin-Headed fired like an amateur at a carnival, allowing Slingshot openings through which he tossed his primitive ammunition. The Decepticon hit a good nick on the left shoulder. It almost cost Slingshot his concentration. But rather than act predictably, Slingshot dropped flat and allowed pain receptors to cripple him long enough to reroute power flow.

Pin-Headed ballyhooed: "HA! AUTOBOT PINX! Shoulda stayed home and lubricated your rusted carcass!

Slingshot cursed inward but remained silent, struggling to keep from gasping. He called his weapon from subspace as Dark and Pin-Headed took one threatening step, then another.

You know, Autobot, on this planet, the natives eat parts of the dead to take in their power. How tasty will you be?"

Slingshot set his weapon for a single power-draining shot because he knew he had only one chance.

"Not very," he answered and shot into the 'con's left optic.'

"L-L-A-A-G-G-G-H-H-H!!!" The Decepticon flipped backward in the tall grassy thorns, squirming like a wounded worm. He arched his back and kept screaming.

Shuddering with after-shock, Slingshot managed to stand and shot the 'Con twice more for good measure.

The Aerialbot stumbled forward, landing hard on his knees. There was no telling how far the camp was from his location. He was pretty much on his own and he knew that-or so he believed-until Silverbolt called him on the intercom.

"Yeah, I'll live," he griped, still trying to keep pain out of his voice. "But . . . I expect a cup of hot-something when I get back-HOLY PRIMUS!"

To his right, Slingshot spotted the refugee camp, the line of Autobot warriors before it and Decepticons closing in or engaged. To his shock, a great shadow rose from the ground-four legs, jaws gleaming with fluids and it turned toward the advancing Decepticon army. One slender leg stepped from the refugee ships and where it landed stood Rodimus Prime, clothed in a darkness Slingshot could only describe as a fine mesh screen that blotted Roddi's colors.

They were all in dire trouble.

Slingshot tried to warn Silverbolt; the Aerialbot almost could not put his words together. The Aerialbot commander answered with "I'll get back to you in a minute."

From Slingshot's vista, he watched a great black Decepticon flier make a spin loop, ascending straight up the mesosphere. The jet hammered back toward the planet in a suicidal dive. Springer flew into view and edged hard to starboard to avoid the dark craft's wake.

The Decepticon shot a second set of turbines, pulling up just a bare three feet from collision. He paved a trail between the two armies. His wind kissed the ground and left a burnt trail in his path. He transformed and shot white-hot stakes at the Autobot triple-changer.

Springer partially crashed as Ultra Magnus gave the call for the Dinobots to charge the land-based Decepticon Shock troops.

The Dark Flier reloaded his crossbow and aimed as Springer slipped into auto mode. Rather than evade the attack, Springer advanced like a maniac. He fired at the 'Con intentionally missing his target.

The Decepticon, who had not loaded his crossbow just yet, paused to laugh. "You fight like a maintenance droid! Tell me, Autobot, do they keep you around for conversation, or CHEAP ENTERTAINMENT?"

Springer was counting on his antic to catch the 'Con off guard and he transformed just before tackling the Dark Flier who aimed to side-step. Instead, Springer transformed and his feet contacted the Decepticon's thorax. The two fell ground-wise and rolled before the Con threw him off and produced a double-bladed serrated sword.

"Geeze!" Springer hissed. "Where did you get THAT thing? The Universal Swiss army knife shop?"

The 'Con took a swipe and although Springer tried to leapt back, two gashes appeared on his chest. He did not feel the sword!

The Dark Flier shrugged and with two swift moves, sliced Springer's body diagonally. Springer shuddered in shock and fell to stasis lock.

* * *

Rusti awoke with no sense of time. Remnants of her flash-migraine bounced behind her eyes. Her face hurt. Her muscles ached.

Lie still.

The Frostbite sat in dim emergency lighting. Sounds of war screamed and bellowed from afar. Sometimes the noises closed in, threatening the Frostbite and her dependents with the certainty of death. Rusti wished she could guess what happened on the battlefield. The isolation comforted no one on the ship, even though some of the battle was televised. Their words came muffled in quiet nervous voices.

Rusti managed to sit up. Her head reclined against the wall, as pain thumped the insides of her skull. Her dry mouth tasted bloody; she bit her inner cheek when she dropped. Everyone around her sat repressed with apprehension; their faces haunted, their eyes hollow with dread.

People huddled closer together with blankets and pillows. Rusti decided all she wanted was a warm bath and her own bed. All the blankets and pillows in the galaxy could not comfort her.

The Frostbite tottered just a bit. No one paid it much mind by this point. No explosions hit, no rockets raged overhead. It was probably one of the Dinobots thundering across the land, shaking the ground under their powerful bodies. But the waiting smothered most conversation and Rusti wondered how long she was out.

Unaccounted minutes fell away before a figure picked a path around the bodies toward her. Rusti lifted sore, weary eyes as Dr. Arcana knelt beside her with a small scanner in hand. "I'm glad you've come out of it. How do you feel?"

"Like shit," she answered with a tone Roddi might have used.

She did not see the Headmaster doctor raise his brows. "You passed out."

"Yeah. It was like someone hit me on the inside of my skull. In fact, if you crack it open, you might find the guy in there with a jackhammer."

Arcana produced a bottle of water and two pills. Rusti stared at the pills with disdain. If only two aspirin was all it took to fix the world's problems. "Here, Rusti. It's not much. And keep the water. You're probably dehydrated."

She accepted both items and stared at the pills, now aware something else was amiss. "Something's wrong, Dr. Arcana. Something's wrong with Roddi."

He leaned toward her, "You can't help him, Rusti. No matter how much you care, you and I can do nothing."

She choked, fearful. While tears gathered behind her eyes, she hurt too much to let them go. The girl seized control of her distressed heart and swallowed the pills. Satisfied she did not resist his offer, Arcana laid a hand on her shoulder then quietly departed. Out the corner of her eye, Rusti watched him disappear into the bridge. Temptation to join those watching the battle called her but Rusti did not have enough curiosity. She had no desire to watch the Autobots sacrifice their lives; not when she knew how Roddi felt about the situation.

She wished she could be out there with them.

A tiny light sparkled off the right.

Rusti ignored it at first. Her foggy, aching head kept her on the floor, against the wall and out of trouble. But only for those few moments when she was smart enough to keep her eyes closed.

It blinked again with greater strength; coaxing her curiosity from the safety of her peers.

Rusti scrunched her brows and tried to turn away. But the hard floor offered no comfort. She squeezed the water bottle tightly. There's always the excuse to find the 'little girl's room'. Irritated by her own insatiable curiosity, Rusti polished off the water and slowly stood even as a screaming rocket sailed over the Frostbite and boomed nearby.

Rusti toed her way over sleeping forms, convincing herself that she was not looking for the light; it was just incidental that it blinked in the same direction.

Nevertheless, it drew her further from safety. Clearly a foolish thing to do. Rusti paused at the end of the second corridor and chose to turn back.

Another muted light flickered from the left. Maybe some little kid found a flashlight. No. All little kids were tucked safely in the ship's storage compartments. The light-flicker reappeared around the next bulkhead. She glanced right. Left. Right. Left.

There! She crept toward the source like a cat, low, noiseless, cautious. It was gone again. But Rusti was not fooled. She saw something. Wait. Wait for it.

There! Light. Images. Just like she saw in Goodwin's tent. Faces of Transformers and aliens flashed in her face. She could not count the number of people nor did she have time to concentrate on any one of them.

And then it was gone. Rusti sat there, stunned. what was that all about? She wracked her brains, trying to recall why the incident seemed so familiar.

A strange, indescribable sound called her. Rusti strained her senses. It sounded like a voice, but it really wasn't a voice ... and yet it was.

She debated. And she debated more.

Rusti decided to track the sound.

Attending another patient, Dr. Arcana asked Lakendra Littlefield to check on Rusti and a few others. She traversed from one place to another, keeping notes and distributing water where it was needed. By the time she reached the place where Arcana said the Witwicky girl rested, all Littlefield found was an empty spot and an empty water bottle. She turned about, hoping she was just in the wrong place. But two witnesses said the girl slipped away some time ago.

Littlefield checked the restrooms. No result. She resorted to softly calling, hoping to get an answer. "Rusti?"

She was not in one room or another. Certainly not on the bridge or in any nearby conference rooms. "Have you-excuse me, have you seen Rusti-oh, I-I'm sorry, Mr. Witwicky. I was trying to locate your daughter."

Daniel stared at Littlefield with cold glassy eyes. He held her for a long moment projecting nothing but contempt.

She backed away, actually fearful until a hand landed on her shoulder. Littlefield jumped then turned to face Arcana. "The girl-" she stammered, "Rusti. I can't find her."

"No one has left the ship. I'm sure she's someplace." Arcana's eyes drifted to Daniel Witwicky's face. His visage was a brick wall. Brown eyes saw through them and around them; a set of mirrors reflecting neither light nor a soul. The creases round his mouth were deep scars of scorn. Daniel somberly turned from them and disappeared into the crowd.

Arcana excused himself from Littlefield and flipped out his scanner.

Sensing his urgency, Littlefield did the same and hoped they found Rusti before her mad father got a hold of the girl.

Psychic fingerprints whispered from all parts of the vessel. They trailed after, reporting events and rumors of the ship's original designers.

Rusti dragged her fingers along the Frostbite's metal walls, listening to its shields complain. "Shhhh. That's enough." She could not listen to the ship and the alien voice at the same time. By now her curiosity enticed her toward the stern, most likely closer to the engine room. She frowned in resignation. It had been quite a while since she heard the voice and certainly someone was looking for her. She about returned to the ship's main section when she ran into a silent, masculine figure. "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know anybody was behind me!"

At first Rusti did not see his face clearly. She tilted her head slightly, struggling to make out his facial characteristics. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

His lips spoke but his words did not match the movement. Rusti nervously backed off a step.

"Refrain. From. Bare-Anches."

"What's that?"

"Refrain. From. Bare-Anches. Time-could not . . . anyone else. Refrain-Bare-Anches."

She instinctively reached for the stranger. Bitter-cold frosted her out-stretched hand and the figure vanished the next second. Rusti caught her breath, shocked.

A terrible boom tipped Frostbite hard to the side. Rusti slammed left as echoes of screams tumbled down the hall.

The Frostbite did not flip, but internal power snapped off. Rusti hugged the bulkhead and covered her ears while jets zoomed directly over the ship. The roar of engines vibrated the shields while weapons pounded the ground, a shower of dirt and rocks followed.

Rusti covered her face and bowered over. She desperately wanted to go home. The storm of bombs drifted off, hopefully outside of camp, away from the ships. Ten seconds later, distance muffled the sounds of war.

That was it. Rusti made her mind to get back to the rest of the group and quit chasing phantoms. But just as she turned, a small sphere of light sparked like crystal-luminescence. Points and spikes mesmerized her as it floated to the floor. The sharp light softened to a dull glow and melted to transparency before it solidified into a reddish-brown figure.

Confused that she could see the figure, Rusti scrutinized the form through the dull emergency lighting.

No taller than six inches, a alien returned her gaze with a long head, a pointed chin and a set of horns. It had a visual sensory organ resembling a V-shaped visor. It also had no arms or hands; in fact, it had no torso.

The alien opened its mouth and squeaked at her.

She thought it cute.

"Come here," she beckoned, "I won't hurt you. Come here." She tentatively held forth her hand, hoping the alien would not bite. She remembered the dog she once tried to coax when she was little. It gave her eight stitches.

The alien backed up a space or two, squeaking as though attempting to communicate. It was ugly and yet cute, like a doll from another world. Rusti crept forward just another foot or more, keeping her movements slow, whispering in friendly tones.

She reached the alien, just touching it with the tips of her fingers. Smooth as glass, its warm shape rubbed against her hand like a kitten suddenly discovering love for the first time. Rusti dragged the rest of her form closer, daring not to enclose her hand round the alien in case it was too close, too fast.

"Hello!" She said softly, "How are you? Are you from around here? Are you lost? Maybe you're a baby, huh? Where's your mother?"

The Frostbite's interior lighting flickered, trying to realign power flow. Rusti startled, finding herself in the sub-control room near crew relief quarters.

"Reek?"

The little guy cuddled in her hand. Charmed, Rusti brought it closer to her face and examined it for wounds or markings.

Voices from the other end of the Frostbite sounded through the corridors. Not far from her position, Rusti heard Duros' voice call out power levels. Littlefield's voice marked numbers rations of food and water verses number of people in the ship. Rusti wondered if she should hide her new-found friend. Chances were the 'adults' would either kill it and ask questions later, cage it for a later time, or force her to put it outside.

It. It. It.

**It** needed a name. But there was no time for something of that nature. Rusti glanced up and down, seeking possible storage compartments-someplace preferably warm, cozy and quiet in which to hide.

RAH-KA-BOOM

The ship rocked, responding to a great nearby blast. The lights blinked once more, and Rusti hugged the alien close. She shushed it when it squeaked and snorted.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Littlefield's voice called loudly. Rusti squeaked herself. "What have you got there?"

"Nothing!" She stammered automatically. "It's nothing. Just a-a stuffed toy-"

Too late Littlefield screamed and Rusti tried to shelter the alien from the officer's vision. "Stop!" Rusti begged, "you're scaring him!

Arcana and Captain Jemal Helser came to Littlefield's aid. Lakendra turned her face away, burying frightened eyes into Helser's shoulder.

Arcana knelt, his face a contortion of horror and puzzlement. "What on the face of Mars IS THAT, Rusti?"

Rusti could not believe their reaction-especially Littlefield. She remained respectful enough to leave the 'duh' out of her answer. "It's an alien. I found it while the lights were out."

That's one hell of an alien." Helser chirped while Littlefield sobbed on.

Arcana shot an irritated glance, not at Helser, but at Littlefield. "Get her out of here."

Rusti frowned and shook her head. Some women just can't take it.

"Rusti, we'll have to either put it outside or in a cage."

"No!" she argued, "It's not going to hurt anyone! It's just a little thing, probably lost. When the fighting is over, I'll let it go . . ." Maybe, she added to herself.

Arcana sighed impatiently, "Look, Rusti, I do not want to argue with you about this. Anything that looks like a living skeleton is going to upset people-"

The girl's eyes shot wide open, "What did you say?"

"Rusti!" Arcana's voice turned firmer, "An alien that looks like a skeleton is not something to bring home-"

"SKELETON?!" Rusti reexamined her little keepsake and tried to figure out why Arcana would say such a thing. Then her mouth dropped: "Ohmigod. You're seeing something totally different!"

A sharp blast sent a blazing wind down the corridor. Rusti fell to her side, clutching the alien close. Arcana sheltered her with his body as a blaze whirled about them.

WRAK-KLANK. WRAK-KLANK.

Faster than the girl's next breath, Arcana whipped out his laser weapon and fired three times. There came a shout from a set of vocalizers, clearly of mechanical origin.

"Get up!" Arcana jumped to his feet and yanked Rusti to hers. He gently but firmly pushed her further down the hall. "Duros!" he screamed into the comlink, "Shields have been compromised! Repeat! Shields have been compromised!" His weight fell forward when Rusti pulled him back. He glanced just long enough to choke in shock when two Decepticons boarded the vessel.

One of them was Rumble.

* * *

The ground trembled with echoes of great footfalls. Rocks tremored across the plain, influenced by a false quake.

The difference between Sludge and the great Decepticon behemoth was Sludge's ability to walk softly in spite of his tremendous size. Training by Autobots and time spend on Dinobot Island had taught the Dinobots how to handle their size and strength among the smaller members of their race.

Which was exactly why Grimlock was disturbed by the heavy-footed Decepticon coming their way. And while the Dinobot leader felt inclined to boast of Dinobot finesse, he dared say nothing, knowing now that a braggart usually eats his own words.

The largest Decepticon paused in his tracks so that three others could catch up to his great strides. Amazingly enough, the heavy-footed Decepticon was not that much taller than Grimlock in robot form. But his mass was quite the match. Short shoulder-mounted rocket launchers padded his huge shoulders. His chest was a fortress of solid metal, folded with no seams. His legs, built like bolted rocks, left no room for doubt as to their strength and power.

Kup checked his weapon for the third time. "I don't like the look of this."

Jazz beside him did not answer. The security chief gave his friend a sidelong glance. Jazz was clearly nervous, his optics fixed on the shock troops.

"Jazz?" The older Autobot followed Jazz's stare and his face dropped in shock. The second Decepticon over the horizon reflected Grimlock's mass in Dinobot form. But the similarity ended there.

A set of powerful back legs swept up from its body and punctured the ground with long claws. A tail shot up over its head with a fine-point stinger and two weapons protruded from the thickest part of the tail. A set of smaller claws came out the chest piece. But the head was what so obviously distressed Jazz. The head was a basic cone-shape with a set of down-sided triangular optics and a long jaw that extended so that it could very well have reached around one of Omega Supreme's own legs. The jaw dropped into a permanent scream.

The creature, the Decepticon, looked eerily similar to one of Rodimus' own demonic sculptures.

The Decepticon behemoth stopped as if held back by an invisible line. He swept a pointed finger from one end of the Autobot army to the other.

"I will fight only the strongest and bravest of Autobots. Do not insult me by sending the Autobot leader. We know him, his name. I want BETTER. "I, Lux, shock trooper of the Decepticon army, DEMAND IT!"

Grimlock shifted to robot form and pointed to Lux. "You pick fight. Me, Grimlock, finish it."

Lux did not answer right away. One of his other buddies, a four-armed freak, stamped the ground in anticipation. Lux, however, laughed. "I ask for a big, bad Autobot and you send me a glitch-ridden DOG?"

Grimlock instantly reverted to Dino mode and released such a roar that all Decepticon fliers lost track of their positions. The back-line stepped back, surprised. The four shock troopers-except Lux-flinched. Many Autobots cringed and some held hands over their audio receptors.

And then Grimlock lead the assault.

Lux met him half way, arm raised and a energy-mace replaced his right hand. Grimlock crashed into the Decepticon, landing on his backside. The Decepticon sprang up, swinging left, right, left until Grimlock caught his arm between his teeth and yanked the Decepticon around, tossing him like a doll.

Lux flew, but landed gracefully with a roll. The ground quaked under the thunderous weight of the two warriors.

Grimlock and Lux's battle drew Autobot-Decepticon lines and the code of battle, a silent law, played out. Grimlock and Lux wrestled with life-threatening punches while the fliers above settled their differences for the moment and landed.

Lux opened fire on the Dinobot leader with a barrage of rockets from his shoulder mounts.

One slammed Grimlock's right hip, shattering the outer shell, exposing circuitry. The Dinobot advanced, like a crazed animal. He caught one rocket between his teeth and cast it away. He whacked two others with his deadly tail. He shifted to robot mode in record time and sliced several other rockets with his great sword.

At the last slice of his weapon, Grimlock reverted to Dino mode and charged his opponent with all the fury of a rabid bull.

Lux engaged in the game of chicken, storming the ground with his heavy-mauleded footsteps. Grimlock did not hold back. He leapt, lancing feet-first against Lux's invulnerable chest plate. The half-second the Decepticon shock trooper tumbled, Grimlock rolled off and shot away. He took an impossible hairpin turn in his tracks, skidding in the dirt and grasses, leaving a good cloud of dust. But Grimlock lost no momentum and struck again.

Lux stood. A dent cratering into a great crack marred the shock trooper's upper chest where Grimlock planted his feet. Lux produced another energy-mace, this time with longer, deadlier spikes. He crouched as Grimlock neared for another strike and leapt as the Dinobot aimed another assault. Lux cracked the Dinobot's right shoulder. The energy-mace pierced deeply into Grimlock's armored plating. Grimlock roared but stayed his ground. He stapled Lux's hand, sinking his teeth past thick armor plating. With a low snarl, Grimlock shoved his terrible teeth into fuel lines. He tasted bitter, hot Decepticon energon. His jaws snapped pulleys and punctured an infrastructural rod.

Lux growled low at first but when Grimlock cracked the 'bone', he bellowed and tried to throw Grimlock off. But the Dinobot's teeth could not be dislodged and Lux fell, unbalanced by the Dinobot's weight. They rolled, locked arm and shoulder. Lux pounded Grimlock's head with his free hand until he shattered Grimlock's right optical sensor.

Grimlock released the mace-arm and clamped the other hand.

Bad mistake.

Lux yanked the mace out the Dinobot's right shoulder and sank it into the left side of Grimlock's head.

Grimlock refused to give. He converted pain into primal rage. Landing backward, the Dinobot used his powerful legs to pry the Decepticon off.

Yet agin, Lux went sailing through the air, landing on his feet. His right arm almost fell off.

Grimlock emerged from his Dino mode. The winged plate over his right shoulder sparked and leaked, part of the plating on his back had been bashed in. But Grimlock considered the damage worth the pain he inflicted on his opponent.

"You fight okay," the Dinobot leader tucked a slight smirk in that phrase, "-for little girlie-bot that uses flyswatter."

Lux speared Grimlock, landing head-first into the Dinobot's thorax. Grimlock absorbed the shock of Lux's weight, flipped him off, then 'flipped' him off and returned the charge, this time adding a jump-kick.

Lux caught his right leg and swung the Dinobot around gaining momentum with each circled made. He released Grimlock but did not wait for the Dinobot to recover. Lux shifted down into a tank-like vehicle, complete with steel spiked tires and armored plating.

Grimlock dodged two and three shots from the tank's laser cannon. He shifted back to Dinobot mode and with a great leap, landed heavily on the tank, throwing Lux off his tracks. Grimlock tried to puncture through the armor with his teeth but suffered a nasty surprise when Lux released a high voltage bolt on contact.

Thrown off, Grimlock transformed, landed easily, drew his sword and charged again.

Lux met Grimlock's charge in robot mode, catching the Dinobot's hand as the sword sliced the air. The Decepticon planted a leg into Grimlock's chest and this time it was the Dinobot that flew through the air. But Grimlock used his own flying boosters to prevent the free-fall and with an extra shot of power, slammed his whole body into Lux.

Between the power of Grimlock's force and Lux's mass, the ground under them collapsed and a dust cloud rose, obscuring visual within a hundred-yard radius.

Both sides of the conflicted waited. Who would crawl out the crater? Seconds turned to minutes and still no sign of either warrior. A nervous restlessness passed over both sides as they waited.

Nothing. Nothing.

Slag called for Grimlock, but dusty silence swallowed his voice.

* * *

As his body moved under Viral influence, Rodimus stalked toward the battlefield. No matter how he tried, he could not break free of Void's control. Magnus, he thought, _you should have assassinated me. I'm about to destroy everything._

Everything.

_Where is our supposed god, Primus? Is he asleep? Is he talking to friends? HELLO! Hang up the fucking phone, you brainless, witless bastard! Your underlings are about to die!_

_Oh. Wait. You played this game with me and Optimus before, didn't you?_

_Yeah._

_Did you know the Matrix is corrupt?_

_Did you know that Op and me are going with it?_

_Do you CARE? You should. WHY do you ignore my capacity and ability to wipe out our entire species with a single stroke? Whose stupid idea was it to invest so much power into one device and give it to one person?_

As always, Rodimus' question went unanswered. He grieved, knowing the Virus did not care which side its intended victims stood.

The Virus wrapped its darkness about Rodimus like a cocoon. What was Void really after? Was it possible to stop it?

Not at this point, Roddi resigned. He berated himself sorely for his pathetic weakness.

_Help,_ he thought. _Kill me, someone. I do not know what I'm about to do._

_". . . it took twenty-five years and three hundred seventy-one psychics to break Optimus Prime."_

Was Rodimus himself so weak that it only took one Virus to break his will? How pathetic did that make him? Well, actually, there was his other life. An alien from his home dimension ate their Matrix from the inside.

Make no mistake, he and Optimus did not lose their sanity but their life force wilted. The death of the Matrix nearly killed them.

Actually, now that he pondered it, Rodimus supposed that it did. The death of the Matrix took the vitality out of the surviving Autobots. That was why Optimus chose a world where they were safe to live out their lives; he chose a place for them to die.

Rodimus wondered if he and Optimus would have to do the same thing here.

Roddi recalled the causality loop on Earth just before their escape. How many times did he nearly drown? Primus, that felt like a lifetime ago! What kept him from dying?

The Matrix wasn't strong enough.

Before Rodimus could calculate an answer, he arrived upon the chaos and carnage at the battlefield.

Closer to Autobot front lines there lay a great yawning gap in the ground. A crevice stretched at least three and a half football fields long. A great cloud of dust and smoke rose from its bowels.

Rodimus approached Redial who took potshots at a lumbering 'con as it tangled with Doublecross. Prime was going to ask about the crevice when a frightful black shape roared over the battlefield.

It was huge, black, angular; unlike any ship Rodimus recalled from Earth or any other world. Great vents gave it the ability to hover in one place like a helicopter. But the rest of it was definitely space-faring and-as Rodimus wagered-horribly fast.

It shot up, spun once amid filthy clouds then transformed. The black Decepticon shifted and folded to reveal a tall menacing creature, red of optic and emotionless of face plate.

Void shuddered in anticipation. The Matrix Virus felt the Decepticon's core vibrations and smelled the energy signature. Rodimus' optics mirrored the Virus' bloodlust.

Ideas of mutilation took shape and Roddi tried vainly to suppress them. Vile thoughts and evil intents-STOP! STOP!

He was an Autobot, not a Decepticon!

The dark Decepticon spoke, intervening Roddi's private battle: "I AM DECETRON, LEADER OF THE DECEPTICONS. YOU ARE TRESPASSERS ON CRATIS. WE'RE HERE TO WIPE YOU OFF."

Rodimus drowned in Void's darkness. His optics filled darkly and he approached the front lines. Kup stood several yards behind, Magnus further off the right. "I don't remember seeing your name stamped on the planet. Maybe if you heisted your leg a little more often-"

"I WILL NOT SQUANDER WORDS WITH YOU, AUTOBOT SIMPLETON. Hand over your lives now; I will make your deaths swift and painless."

Ooooh! Irresistible challenge! Void clacked its jaws in glee. Rodimus smiled. "Come claim it, Decetron. We don't have anything else to do right now."

"DO NOT INSULT ME, AUTOBOT!!"

Void fed off Decetron's rage and wanted more.

Decetron swept a long finger at the Autobot army before him. "Your arrogance will be your destruction!" he declared.

"And I will be yours." Rodimus vowed with a smile. "AUTOBOTS!" he called and passed his arm toward their enemies, "RIP THEM APART!"

The Autobots raced forward. Doublecross, Titanium and Magnus lead the front. But Titanium attacked first.

Decepticon Archetype took the brunt of that force. He rolled and transformed into a spiked, heavy artillery vehicle. Metal tracks and side-mounted cannons completed his heavy armor. Titanium kicked Archetype's front plates, causing the vehicle to flip up. Archetype transformed to robot and speared Titanium.

At first, the battle field outside the refugee camp resembled a combination of a car dealership and a robotic science fair come to life. But the sounds of bodies crashing, bombs blowing, lasers screaming and battle cries belied the sharp, shiny objects of any vision of metallic beauty or benevolence.

Fists pounded, smashing metal against metal. Cold steel, wrought with agitated power obliterated one body after another, demolishing the ground and sprayed the air with Cybertronian chemicals. The injured fell and rose again, acquiring greater injury. Bombs spewed fragments, flying shrapnel like so much confetti in the waxing Cratian sun. The grassy field, once soft and green, now soaked with oil, fluids and energon, taking the impact of a hundred thousand tons of metal bodies.

The noise of battle scattered wildlife and echoed from the metal forest to the crystal canyon to the edge of the acid waterfront along the east.

The Dinobots took out two great Decepticons, managing to separate limb from limb before Slag ended landed on the critically-wounded list. He kept going, dragging his mangled left leg, limping like road kill struggling to survive.

Sludge took a phenomenal number of hits, delivering deadly carnage with his feet and tail. Twice he managed to widen and lengthen the crater left by Lux and Grimlock. One Decepticon Duocon dropped into the deepest section, dragging Autobot Lightspeed with him.

The Duocon crawled out, leaving Lightspeed a smouldering crumple at the bottom of the grave.

A long-armed baboon with spikes protruding from its head charged through the battle lines like a dancer sidestepping his way across the crowded floor. He aimed straight for Rodimus, but was intercepted by Kup who jumped wide and took three spikes in the side.

Rodimus did not notice. His/Void's optics were set on Decetron who just dismantled all of Snarl's solar plates and broke his tail. With a power kick, Rodimus sent a lunging Pretender manticore through the air and into a fellow Decepticon. In the next breath, the Autobot leader shoved his gun past the lip components of another enemy and blew his head off. As the corpse collapsed, the manticore returned. It leapt over Rodimus, skidded in a sharp turn and nailed him with raking claws. The Pretender shredded Roddi's left arm with its spiked tail.

But Rodimus felt nothing. He grabbed the Decepticon by the jaws and flipped it on its back.

"TO DEMONSTRATE TRUE PREDATOR." Roddi's voice came freakish, unnatural. A dark shape shot out his optics, almost faster than sight, and ripped into the manticore's throat. The alien feline roared uselessly; the next split second, Void plunged its head into the Decepticon's chest, releasing a fountain of fluids and sparks.

The 'Con spasmed and gurgled in agony as its life extinguished to Void's appetite.

Void consumed Rodimus now so that his soul, the spark of the Autobot leader, lay in shackles upon the desecrated landscape within the abyss of the Matrix.

Void's shadow stretched along Cratis' polluted ground, unnoticed by most Autobots and Decepticons. The Virus scavenged the dead, depleting the carcasses of whatever power remained after the extinguishing spark.

Parallel, from Ft. Sagittarius.

Retractor, Decepticon

Magnet, Decepticon

Tap, Decepticon

Digit from Fort Sonix

Canter from Fort Sonix.

Void surged, its desire bloated with death and chaos. Through Roddi's optics, Void spotted an incoming Decepticon, charging with a great energy axe in hand.

COME. FIND THE DEATH, Void whispered.

Tracer, a Decepticon Particulon, bellowed as he sped ever nearer.

SIMPLICITY IN PREY.

Rodimus held forth the palm of his right hand.

Tracer stopped, freezing every aspect of his form. Something tugged Tracer's breath through his chest. Then he made the mistake of looking the Autobot leader in the optics. Darkness stirred there, something nameless and unspeakable. Worse than a Decepticon's own dreams of torture, mutilation and death. It claimed his name.

"YOU." Roddi soundlessly lipped the words.

Untrained to shield himself from psionic attack, Tracer froze there, gawking in shock until Rodimus' hand landed hard on his shoulder. Tracer gasped with a start.

Rodimus laid his mouth over Tracer's optics and felt the sweet sensation of energy pour into his chest. His laser core pounded and Void inebriated itself with ecstasy.

Rodimus released Tracer-or rather the dead, grey husk and turned to the Pretender pinning Kup to the ground..

"BLOOD THIRSTER. I TAKE YOURS." It was not Rodimus' voice anymore but Void's snarling intonation within the enslaved leader.

At first the Decepticon thought it was Tracer with a bug in his vocalizer. He spotted the Autobot leader approach like the Angel of Death, weapon in hand. The 'Con dropped Kup's injured form and transformed.

Kup pulled his body out of the mud. He watched as Rodimus advanced with stern, powerful footfalls. Roddi's optics were near-black, his body darkened and bloody in color. "No..." Kup's weakened state would not allow him to call for help or save his leader and friend.

No one could.

The Pretender barked a hearty laugh when he saw his form stood two heads taller than Prime. "So THIS is the GREAT Autobot leader! How enigmatically disappointing!"

When Rodimus spoke, it came slow, deliberate and with a slight echo. "SSSEND A MESS-SSAGE TO YOUR BOSS, DECEPTICON."

"Oh! You want me to make a phone call?" the 'Con belched his words to make sure his buddies heard him clearly.

"LISTEN. I SPEAK." the only thing the 'target Decepticon' saw was a blanket of darkness.

But those eight warriors, Autobot and Decepticon alike, watched something far more horrific. Rodimus opened his mouth and out slipped a black spider-like creature. It attached itself to the 'Con's face; two legs about the neck, two about the temples. The Decepticon screamed at the top of his vocalizer but it was muffled. The four-legged beast sank into the con's body. The heavily-armored Decepticon dropped like a dense rock, imprinting the ground with his bulk.

Rodimus fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. All his energy left him. He hurt in every place conceivable. And never had he felt so horribly empty inside.

Where was Primus now?

_We will all die_, he thought.

Rodimus no longer cared about the battle, the injured and the dying. He did not care who won or lost, he did not care if he himself lived or died. The whole world around him lost its sound so that to Roddi, he was the only one in the universe.

And he was dying.

_"Does it matter?"_ he asked no one in his mind. _"Are we just . . . shadows that wither away? Are we so unimportant that we can be tossed aside like playing pieces when the game is over? Damn you, Primus."_

_"I can't help anybody. I can't save anyone. I don't have the strength to care."_

**I do.**

Optimus' voice whispered through what was yet untainted in the Matrix. Roddi's soul collapsed into Optimus' arms. Physically, he blacked out, heartbroken and completely drained.

Kup tried to radio Magnus for help.

No response.

Jazz.

No response.

Gryph.

No response.

The old Autobot winced when he moved, but move he did inching his way toward Rodimus while Ramhorn charged another Decepticon just a few feet away. The old Autobot warrior managed to reach Prime and he checked for life signs. Fear shook his battered hands and twisted Kup's face into worry. Rodimus lay crumpled like a child, forsaken and injured.

Where was his electro-pulse? Where are his life signs? Kup searched Roddi's face while Swoop dropped bombs on a Duocon just east of his position. Bombs and blasts kept Kup's voice silent. He touched Roddi's face and cringed over Roddi's body temperature.

"Where are you, my friend?" he could only ask himself.

Distantly Kup heard Magnus' horn in truck mode as the Major-General mowed over several Decepticons.

He heard Gryph scream.

They were going to die here, weren't they?

One alarming scream followed another and when Kup lifted his head, his innermost spark screamed, though his vocalizer could not.

A long black leg stretching thirty feet in length reached out the crevice and patted the ground like an insect testing for surety. Tapered to a needle point, the leg was followed by another until the head and chest of the Matrix Virus climbed out the canyon like a trapdoor spider. It stood at least sixty feet high.

It was all most war participants could do to keep their focus.

"WHAT IS THAT THING?!" someone shouted from the distance.

Kup could only stare as he had Rodimus' languid form. Void hissed and turned its eyeless face toward the old Autobot and his leader. It drew its head back, snapped toward the greater throng and sprayed acid on 'bot and 'con alike.

Void stepped further onto the plain and snatched a Duocon between its vertical jaws. It bit down so that fluids sprayed everywhere. It dropped the body and impaled a fleeing Autobot with one leg while it dipped again and swept Rewind between horrible steel teeth.

Void drooled Rewind's remains in several slices.

By the shout of command, a band of Decepticons merged into the ugliest gestalt Kup remembered seeing. It wrought a great sword and charged heedless against the Virus.

Void moved its head this way, that as the weapon tried to sink into its body.

A cold hand touched Kup's arm and relief assailed his face in the form of a smile. "Hello, old friend," he greeted Rodimus. But he did not think Prime heard him.

Indeed, Rodimus heard nothing but the calming sound of Kup's laser core, even if it vibrated radically. Rodimus saw nothing but a sullen sky above them as the sun descended into the horizon.

He lay in peace at the moment, his spark still cradled by Optimus' strength. It was then that Rodimus realized Optimus had arrived on Cratis and probably with them right now.

But what else was going on? Why did Kup seem so distracted?

Rodimus ordered his body to respond to his demands. It took another moment. Most systems remained sluggish from overheating. But Prime managed to pull himself up, even if he could not yet stand.

Then he almost wished he were still unconscious. Roddi's fuel lines ran cold with shock. The Matrix Virus fought with a Decepticon gestalt-with the Virus winning. Parts of the combiner team were fused so that the individual 'cons constructing the towering robot could not disengage if they wanted.

The battlefield in disarray made it difficult for Roddi to make tactical judgment calls. Who was in the clear? Who had resources left with which to fight? Who could Rodimus organize into a new front?

That fucking Virus . . . it forced him onto the battlefield before Rodimus could take on a clear assessment.

Rodimus forced himself up but Kup gently held him back. "Rodimus, you're in no condition to fight."

The Autobot leader stared deeply into the old warrior's optics, those gruff, strong optics that had seen more than their fair share of life. "You know, Kup," Roddi said softly, "no Autobot Prime has ever lived to see your age. I'm really surprised Optimus has lived as long as he has, the Unicronian War not withstanding. If I die, I'll do it with integrity, knowing that I died carrying out my responsibility."

Kup's heart broke as Rodimus struggled to stand on his own. It took so much effort but he was too determined to allow any physical impediment to keep him from doing his job. To be perfectly honest with himself, Kup did not think he could ever take Roddi's place. It seemed when it came to the need of that one last drop of energy, the Matrix, or the Universe or Primus or God saw to it that Autobot leader got it.

The more he moved, the stronger Roddi felt. To his right lay the gapping crater at the bottom of which lay Grimlock and Lightspeed. At the left amassed the carnage; Autobot verses Decepticon, tearing each other apart. Ahead loomed Void, snapping and gnashing its teeth as it played with -yes, played-with the unknown Decepticon gestalt.

**"Void,"** Roddi whispered. **"Come play with me."**

He knew the Virus heard him. It was there in physical form. It was there in his laser core. It was in his consciousness. It was in the Matrix.

TIME. MINE.

"Bastard," Rodimus snarled at it. "They offer you nothing."

The Virus rocked up on its back legs like a horse and stamped six-foot holes into the ground. With a swipe of its tail, it sliced the Decepticon combiner team in half. Those Transformers; 'bots and 'cons alike who had been assaulting Void with their comparatively diminutive weapons dodged the falling gestalt. Void paid them no more mind and it leapt right for Roddi who did not so much as flinch-even when Void snapped its steel-white teeth just precious millimeters from his face.

Roddi expected to die. What held the Virus back?

It jumped from him to the thickest part of the battle and roared in delight as all fighting broke; all warriors fled before it. Rodimus took two steps, befuddled by Void's behavior.

Then he witnessed why: as Autobots and Decepticons dashed madly, the great sixty-storey Virus inexplicably spit itself into small black discs and shot through those Transformers closest to its range. Every robot touched by the Virus was cored out-literally and figuratively. Their sparks extinguished, their optics melted from their faces. The ground flooded with Transformer fluids and melted body shells.

Magnus could not bring to memory any Decepticon as ghastly as the one he fought.

Decepticon shock trooper Frequous fit his name. He stood at Magnus' height armed with claws, talons and a stinger. Frequous even spooked the Major-General with the ability to shift modes as fast as Blurr. Worst of all were Freq's two hideous faces.

Autobot Rox lay dying from loss of fluids and Frequous would not let up long enough for Magnus to call for help.

Frequous swung, spat, kicked and hissed. Magnus avoided the shock trooper's lumbering steps with ease until Frequous shifted and rammed into the commander's mid section. Magnus grunted with impact as their bodies crashed. Frequous landed a solid punch, caving the left side of Magnus' helm. Magnus delivered a left cross, throwing his entire bulk into it.

Frequous tumbled off and shifted. Magnus rolled and kicked, using his own momentum to thrust his body back to his feet. He just missed a stream of acid from the 'con's scorpion tail.

The tail descended again and one pincer swiped. Magnus jumped to miss the pincer and caught the tail. Freq tried to toss the Major-General but Magnus' bulk gave him the weight he needed to reclaim ground. The nanosecond he touched dirt, Ultra Magnus dragged Frequous in a half circle. But the 'Con wasn't so easily unbalanced and Magnus tugged harder.

Frequous tried to spray the Autobot again but Magnus turned the acid weapon upon its owner.

Too bad it had no affect on Frequous himself.

Lightning cracked the sunset sky, setting the battlefield in a moment of white blaze. A quiet thunder followed until another strike flicked white, then died.

Magnus dragged the shock trooper in a circle as yet another spurt of lightning spit across the field. He spun faster and faster until Frequous was airborne. Magnus let go, drew his weapon and fired until the 'Con was out of range.

It did not take long for Frequous to race back, however. He came for Magnus like a meteorite bent on oblivion. Magnus waited for point-blank range and punched Frequous with everything he had.

The shock trooper spun out of control and crashed in a jumble of arms, legs, claws and several foul-sounding words.

He lay still, counting his segments.

Magnus reset his weapon for wide-shot when he noticed Tektonix had his hands full with the self-proclaimed leader of the Decepticons.

Magnus hesitated.

Both Tektonix and Decetron bore their marks of gutted fighting. An ugly rip in Tek's right leg leaked everywhere. Decetron bore a hole in his left shoulder. Tek had lost an optic. Decetron's right audio sensor was mangled.

They held each other in a clasped stalemate, judging strength and weariness until Tek jarred his right knee into Decetron's middle. Decetron bowed with impact before butting his head into Tek's lower mandible.

The moment cost Tek yet another melee when Decetron planted a foot at Tek's central junction.

Lighting riveted across the sky, illuminating blood and refuse littering the battlefield. Bodies lay strewn, unrecognizable shapes in the fading light. Lighting hit again, scratching the sky with its brilliance. But little thunder rumbled afterward.

Tektonix landed on his back, Decetron fired. Tektonix rolled, transformed to armored transport and rammed Decetron. But the Decepticon leader, undeterred, flew straight back and fired one shot after another: BAAM! BAAM! BAAM!

He closed in, firing until he was close enough to kick Tektonix over and he fired at the underside.

Tek had lost so much fluid he could not longer keep transformation.

That was when Magnus was about to fire on Frequous and hesitated. He leapt to Tek's aid and planted his huge feet into Decetron's back. Decetron rolled with him, rolled for control, rolled for the kill. He kicked Magnus off as the Virus roared, leaping from Rodimus to the midst of battle.

Decetron hauled out his weapon one last time. He blew a hole into Magnus' chest then blew Tektonix's head clear off-all that just as he watched the Virus split itself upon and enter all those transformers closest to it.

Void brought itself together and roared triumphantly. Lighting cracked overhead and Cratis stopped rotating, the sun did not set.

Decetron swore profusely, refusing to be cowed by some cheap Autobot tactic. He raised the power setting on his anti-protonic fission discharger and the Decepticon leader fired several powerful shots.

But even Decetron was astonished when Void absorbed the power.

However, the shots infuriated the Virus so that it screeched, sending some Autobots and many Decepticons to their knees.

Cloudstreaker took six blows from the fist of a Duocon. Her whole body hurt especially her optics. She sat, finding her normal vision offline and switched to UV. The lightning storm above the battlefield negatively charged the ionic particles in the air, leaving minute spheres of dark energy. She watched, surprised how some Decepticons absorbed the dark energy.

Decetron fired at Void again, leaving streaks of anti-protonic energy in the air. Void screeched again, damaging more audio sensors. But Cloudstreaker was so distracted by the light-and-energy show, she did not notice.

Another bolt of negative-powered lighting. Another anti-protonic shot from Decetron and in the ground under them lay a deposit of metallic hydrogen.

Cloudstreaker begged for one more strike, one more blast, one more chance. She opened her subspace conduits, leaving a clear channel open for the positive energy flowing from the hydrogen and then the lighting struck, this time just close enough.

Void stomped, furious, impaling a Pretender with one leg. Decetron shot three, four, five times and Cloudstreaker forced all three energies into a pocket, sliding open a temporary subspace plane.

The Virus squealed as its form slammed in implosion and disappeared into thin air.

Cloudstreaker fainted.

Decetron took in cooler air. "DECEPTICONS!" he bellowed, "ERADICATE THE AUTOBOTS!"

Jazz took the brunt of four shots first delivered by Frequous. Jazz survived only by a single lucky shot of his own.

Magnus forced his damaged, smoldering frame to transform, no matter how much pain it cost him. He ran into one 'Con, caught in a tangle with Streetwise. An alien inset crunched under his weight. As Magnus passed over it, however, the 'Con lifted Magnus so that he lost traction. The city commander shifted back to robot mode, now realizing it was the last time he could. He wrapped his huge hands around the freakish thing and dodged deadly spit when the bug opened its gaping maw.

Magnus snapped its neck then abandoned it. He tramped on fallen 'cons and stepped around fellow Autobots. "Decetron!" he called, "Come and FINISH your job! You're a disgraceful SLOB on the battlefield!"

Decetron, aiming for the Confiscator, paused. His storm troopers paused alongside him but only Raptor, his head advisor, and Radius, dared a glance back.

"What do you want, Magnus?" Decetron asked loudly. Magnus' words tried his patience.

"A one-on-one. I want to teach you battlefield protocol-"

"NO." and Decetron faced the Autobot city commander. "There was already a one-to-one fight today. AND YOU AUTOBOT LACKEYS LOST!" and Decetron charged with such speed Magnus could only kick the advance. Decetron's thermo-sword nicked his left cheek.

Decetron merely used Magnus' forceful kick as momentum and flew up then back but he was not counting on Rodimus. Prime shot the powerful Decepticon leader away from Magnus.

Go down fighting, Prime told himself. Die with lasers blasting; an honorable death.

The Autobots were finished, anyway. History repeated itself. He failed to prevent it.

A weapon locked, loaded and targeted in his direction. Rodimus dared a glance to the right while Decetron rebounded.

Archetype, a more vile creature than Lux, but smaller, trained a tri-pulsar accelerator anti-proton rifle in his direction

Archetype grinned ugly.

Another shot snapped from Kup's direction distracting Archetype's stomping advance.

The Decepticon rattled his head and contorted his face in confusion. Who shot him? Autobots and Decepticons lay around them dead or dying. He paused, assessing the possibility of an invisible sniper. But Archetype swiftly changed his mind, avoiding Sunstreaker's smoldering form. "Come out, Autobot sniper!" Archetype called, "you cannot hide forever. I like the lucky shot. Come out so I can see you. Come out and play with me! I promise to kill you before I terminate your precious leader! Don't be shy!"

Rodimus waited until Archetype had just passed his position. He leapt over Sunstreaker, kicking Archetype in the side. The shock trooper went down, but caught Roddi's foot. He dragged him down, grinning when Roddi's optics met his at kissing distance.

Archetype sank two rows of fangs into Prime's shoulder. Poison eked into Roddi's joint and he struggled to remain conscious, struggled to maintain his own mind.

_Don't give into Void!_

Rodimus managed to position his left arm just under Archetype's arm joint and fired. The arm shot off, the Decepticon released him and Roddi pushed away. His vision blurred as his systems warned him of impending lock.

But all Rodimus heard were Archetype's feet as he stomped toward the Autobot leader. Roddi's optics fell dark.

_Another spark to claim._

He swung around and shot Arc with the arm weapons. Archetype already had his weapon at the ready and the second Rodimus moved, he fired. The energy from Arc's anti-proton weapon met and canceled Roddi's own Virus-infected shot. The energies canceled each other and in a blinded rage, Rodimus tackled Archetype. The two rolled over bodies, rocks and burnt grass.

"CALL IT OFF!" Decetron ordered, "YOU'LL ALL DIE!"

Archetype managed to lever his legs under the maddened Autobot leader and shot Rodimus off. But Rodimus, possessed by the internal madness, landed easily. He spotted the injured Decepticon laying on top of Blue. He kicked the 'con off, punched his hand into the 'con's chassis and ruthlessly yanked out a handful of circuits, wires and spurting lines. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT, DECETRON?!" His scream was not his own. His anger was not his alone. His laser core vibrated hard and fast, pumping poisons throughout his system. "I CAN GIVE IT TO YOU!!"

The Autobots always held themselves to a form of 'forgivable warfare'. They fought, they won, they released POW's. They fought, they lost and rebuilt elsewhere. They always forgave the Decepticons. But this unforeseen brutality was beyond the comprehension of every onlooker on the field. This act of barbarism-committed by an Autobot leader- was such a shock that not Archetype, not Decetron, not Ultra Magnus, Raptor or Kup moved for about eight point ninety-three seconds.

Decetron moved first. He trained his weapon on Kup.

Lux climbed out the crevice and spotted a battered Ultra Magnus.

Decetron's weapon reset on command.

Magnus forced himself up with everything he had left.

Archetype retrained his weapon on Roddi.

Lux aimed for a shot at Magnus-this would blow the city commander to pieces.

Decetron's weapon charged.

Rodimus ran to save Kup.

The Virus flinched in confusion.

Magnus set a final rocket to launch at Decetron.

Archetype fired several shots, razing the ground.

Rodimus dodged shots with every footfall.

Decetron's finger lay on the trigger.

Magnus fired the rocket and blacked out.

Archetype's pepper of shots hit Kup and Blue, Fleeter, Cold Front and Wavelength.

A thundering commotion erupted from the south.

But no one paid attention.

Rodimus speared the Decepticon commander in the thorax.

Magnus hit the ground.

Lux's shot missed Magnus by mere microts.

Rodimus assaulted Decetron.

Decetron fired his weapon.

Both plummeted to the depths of the crater's dark maw. . .

. . . and disappeared.


	10. Inchwise

WARNING: coarse language, violence and some disturbing scenes. Deep felt gratitude goes to Jayd Hunter for her undying emotional support, thoughtfulness and priceless friendship. And much gratitude to Illmatar for her gifted insight, eternal encouragement and Friday afternoon yak-sessions. Love both of you guys!

CHAPTER 10:  
INCHWISE

**Pt 1: Parafax 12**

**Earth Date: November 5, 2038**

**Location: Rymathis Xi, Draconis Solar System **

An immense assembly of mighty kings, formidable ambassadors and distinguished representatives drooped under a powerful sleeping spell. Their heads dipped, their eyelids collapsed.

Ambassador-Princess Sh'Ree's lilting voice filled the mammoth hall with soft, sweet tones. Her voice dropped once when tears constricted her throat.

Those few who managed to resist her beautiful dialect heard the story of unimaginable disasters brought by the worst temporal infractions ever recorded. Millions of people either lost their lives, their sanity or completely vanished from history. The planet's eco system broiled under horrible temperatures, frigid back lashes, massive quakes and shocking tsunamis.

Ambassador Koontah sat at the table closest to the embassy hall's entryway. He silently jotted notes while he calculated events between planetary activity, solar cycles, natural phenomena and chaotic incidents. His companion and assistant, Weezaxaas, refined all the Ambassador's intricate calculations and pinpointed six possible sources.

As Sh'Ree's voice enticed more interplanetary delegates to sleep, Koontah narrowed his configurations to four causes.

A tall, well-built conference room security officer stepped to Koontah's right with a note. "Begging your grace, Ambassador," he whispered, "there is a televised message for you in room thirty-seven."

Koontah immediately suspected bad news.

He was right.

The lined face of an Abryth stared at the ambassador with four small silver eyes. His bald pate changed from a blue-violet hue to red-orange as Koontah approached the wall-sized screen.

"Lord Taybrin."

"Ambassador."

"In better health, I trust." Koontah knew this was not a curtsey call. The Abryth neither forgot nor forgave Koontah their last confrontation. In fact, Koontah spotted the remains of three deep wounds on Taybrin's left shoulder.

"Hopefully better than _yours_, Ambassador."

Koontah smiled with his eyes. "Can I do something more for you, Lord Taybrin?"

"Unfortunately, you can."

Koontah's ears perked forward. Taybrin, a 'reformed' pirate, did not take kindly to Koontah's intervention and he retained bitterness over the penalty he paid for stolen weapons technology.

"Ambassador, we discovered yesterday someone has been tampering with transporter path lines."

"What?"

"The entire net access lines system has been tampered with. Two hundred and ninety-three teleports have been compromised. Thirteen of them ended in dead space."

"Taybrin, how could _anyone_ affect the wormhole network? That would take-" Koontah cut himself off, realizing what it meant. " . . . someone experimenting with a temporal weapon, re-coordinating the lines and using . . . oh, thack. Thank you, Taybrin. I'll look into it."

Taybrin broke in before the ambassador left: "I-I deserve _something_ for my trouble, Ambassador."

Koontah paused in the doorway. "If there is anything left of the perpetrators, I'll send you a photo; autographed and free of charge."

Weezy dashed outside the embassy hall and caught up with Koontah as the ambassador phoned his transport in advance.

"You're not going alone this time."

"Who says I'm going anywhere?"

"Don't play dumbass with me. Where are you going, Koontah?"

"I'm calling-Hey, Boots? Need something to do? Yeah. I'm heading there now."

"Where?"

Koontah heard that in stereo from both his closest friend and his sister over the phone. "Parafax 12."

Bootsey said something but it was Weezy Koontah heard: "Are you sure that's the source of disturbance? Why not Monicus? Jupiter?"

"No. Monicus was a result, not an instigative area. And the other two sources haven't happened yet." Koontah kept walking toward the spaceport. Weezy tailed after, concern growing in his voice.

"Wait a minute, Koontah, Parafax 12 is in the Cratian System."

"Yes it is."

"The Autobots are in the Cratian System."

"No, the Autobot _refugees_ are in the Cratian System."

"Are they being followed?"

Koontah paused, perplexed. "Uh . . . I hadn't thought of that. Quintessons won't go to Cratis-Weezy, we need an escort service."

Weezaxaas grinned.

**Earth Date: November 10, 2038**

**Location: Asteroid Parafax 12**

**The Cratian System**

Quintesson Judge Galdain Tu led two colleagues and a small troop of hungry Sharkticons down a crude, hand-carved rock passage into a wide natural cavern. A complex, integrated terminal output system hugged the back of a sub-cave carved further into the cavern. An ancient space bridge squatted just behind it. A powerful magnetic repolarizor sat to the left of the sub-cave. A constant hum vibrated from the machine, making it possible for the Quintessons to withstand the baryon radiation produced by the sun. In the near-lightless world, the procession of Sharks and Quints encountered several giant storage crates and spare parts for the space bridge.

Galdain Tu and Dregmoont, his science colleague, took every conceivable precaution to maintain their secrecy and presence in the Herculean system. Just being in the solar system was enough to set their tentacles flaying. Radiation emitted from the large orange star, even at their present distance, set their nerves on edge. Galdain Tu wondered how their 'noteworthy colleagues', who secretly worked with unknown allies, managed to withstand the three planetary revolutions they spent on Cratis.

For most Quintessons, death is worth the price of accomplishing a project. Galdain Tu boiled with jealously over those Quintessons on Cratis who proved so successful with their endeavor. Not only did they earn great rewards, praise and admiration across seven galaxies, but they reaped a considerable profit.

Fortunately those Quintessons who treaded Cratis' filthy atmosphere did not live long thereafter.

But not one Quint dared express the weak-minded emotion of fear to his companions. Not only was unadvisable to stay in the system for their health, but also for their personal safety.

Cratis was the only habitable planet left. The Quintessons, however, still feared those who remembered them and the price paid for dabbling with Quintesson business and technology. It might have been seven million years since the Cratian System lost nine-tenths of its life forms, but there were the Damules who dwelt in the caves and canyons on Cratis. They remembered. Not more than a hundred Earth years ago, the Damules placed a juicy price on the life of every Quintesson out there.

"Coordinates to the B'Gapin System have been calculated within ten nactometrics outside Dabwok City." Dregmoont, the head technician, reevaluated his calculations. The Intergalactic path lines tore at the fringes. The Quintesson refused to admit he made a serious error by tampering with the time streams along the travel routes in subspace and wormhole access byways.

Not that Galdain Tue or Parkal Rade cared anything about intergalactic repercussions. Their only concern was leaving the system with no trace of their tampering. That meant leaving their Sharkticons to destroy Parafax 12 before self-destruct.

Not entirely neat and clean, but effective.

Parkal Rade carefully disassembled the temporal disruptor. He was pleased with its uncanny efficiency. The fact that he beguiled the Henron and its crew into a course headed for a nearby black hole concealed by a cloud of dark matter was essentially unimportant.

After all, it's the result that mattered, rarely the means.

Absorbed by their individual self-importance and their goals, the Quintessons missed the only hint of an intruder slipping from wall crack to rock fragment.

The Sharkticons, currently occupied with memorizing future orders, did not notice the minuscule bombs attached to their hulls. Throwing irons, barely the size of a bolt, bit twenty sharks like a magnetic gnat.

The first shark blew, shocking all the room's occupants. Two more exploded and Dregmoont raced to complete his calculations. The Quintessons retreated, squealing in terror.

"The space bridge!" Parkal Rade called.

"Negative! The space bridge's coordinates lead straight to-"

Six more Sharkticons blew apart, their bodies littered the room, their fuel lines sprayed the walls.

Galdain Tu cursed as his two companions found temporary refuge behind the magnetic repolarizor.

Ten more Sharks ruptured and 'decorated' the room with their remains.

With a battle cry, a large troop of heavily-armored galactic rangers choked the cavern, cutting off the only exit. They swiftly maneuvered their forces against the back walls and hemmed the Sharkticons in on all sides. While the invaders stood but half the size of the Sharkticons, the weapons they held were doubtless formidable. Even the Sharkticons were reluctant to attack.

Two Human-sized people followed the deft troop at a leisurely pace. Half the soldiers held the Quintessons and remaining Sharkticons at gun point while the other half swiftly cleared a path to the Quints.

Walking beside Weezaxaas, Ambassador Koontah entered the cavern just as four rangers cleared the last crumbs of debris.

Behind his blindfold, Koontah knew the rangers all but mopped and polished the floor for him. But even blinded, he sensed the difference between debris and moving mechanisms . . . and three smelly trans-organic life forms. Weezy beside him made several remarks, one of which curved the ambassador's face into half a smile.

They stood facing the Quintessons. The Sharkticons snarled and grinded their metal teeth but their intimidation proved ineffective.

Galdain Tu reminded himself the Wanakian ambassador was not as cute and cuddly as he looked. He was a sharp diplomat who held no qualms in using brute force.

"Do not bother inventing excuses, Galdain Tu," Koontah sternly spoke in Common Trade. "We can do this one of two ways: my way, or the dead way."

Galdain Tu hissed and spun to face Koontah with Hate. "You told the Continuum you would not interfere, Ambassador. Maybe you should like to chew on your own words."

Koontah bared his teeth and lowered a second pair of incisors just behind the first set. "Don't contend with me, Galdian Tu. You will not win. My words were spoken in regard to the conflict between your ilk and the Transformers. And while it is true, that the war between you is not of my jurisdiction, your abuse of time-stream manipulation is."

Quintesson Dregmoont spoke with a soft, pious tone, "Surely you must be aware of the damage your short-term intervention has caused, Ambassador. Fourteen worlds are in economic and social crisis because of it."

"They'll recover, Dregmoont." Koontah remained undeterred. "After all, the law of survival of the fittest has not yet been revoked. Besides, _I_ did not build the two time windows-or the one presently being built in the Terran system. And I certainly did not authorize use of a temporal device to shift the teleport pathways."

Galdain Tu pushed Dregmoont behind him as he himself switched to Face of Death. "It pleases me to remind you, Ambassador, that you said you have no say over our . . . problems with the Transformers. Need I remind you that our work on the time streams is called into our strategy-GGGAAAAAHHHH!"

As if an invisible hand struck him, Galdain Tu flew backward and splattered the computer system behind him.

"You forget Galdain Tu, that I am Keeper of the Triad and any rules I set for temporal interference WILL be obeyed! Push me one step further and I will invoke the right to either imprison you or eliminate you entirely. As it stands, you have forced me to clean up your mess by advancing the time lines. Weezy, we're leaving. I need some fresh air."

The Wanakian ambassador turned about face and started away.

"Wait!" called Parkal. "Please . . Ambassador, maybe there is an agreement we can reach: something that might be beneficial to both of us."

Koontah paused, triangular ears perked above the blindfold. "You know, Weezy, the last time a Quintesson tried to bargain with me, he offered me the fabled Decepticon Matrix."

Dregmoont's tentacles snapped about in panic. "You misunderstand, Ambassador." he added. "The Autobots simply must not regroup with Optimus Prime!"

Weezy turned to face the Quints and grinned while the rangers activated their rifles. "Is that desperation I hear? Or is that the preamble to a song-and-dance routine?"

Koontah did not answer nor did he turn back. Dregmoont picked up his courage and floated to the forefront. "Hear me out. The war between the Autobots and Decepticons has remained silent for twenty-five Earth years. But we have recently heard that two unclassified Decepticons now travel with the beleaguered Autobot leader. Once he returns to the refugees, there will most certainly be a social upheaval, mutiny. The seed of hate will yet again germinate between the two species-"

"Something _your_ people are responsible for, Dregmoont," Koontah said quietly.

Weezy leaned to whisper in the ambassador's ear, "Here it comes! 'I offer you the chance of a life-time, Ambassador."

Dregmoont dared one more pace forward. "I offer you the chance of a life-time, Ambassador."

"Help us to maintain peace and civility." Weezy whispered again.

"Help us to maintain peace and civility." Dregmoont inadvertently echoed.

Koontah smiled but kept laughter in check. He felt Dregmoont advance another yard and finally faced the deviant. "Dregmoont, you will accompany me to Cratis to shut off the deflector device which you and Galdain Tu set up. Captain Falval and his troop will remain here until I return. Beautaxan will keep an eye on everyone else."

The Quintesson trio glanced about their surroundings, looking for the one named Beautaxan.

"Unacceptable." Parkal objected. "We will not cooperate." and with those words, several other brave Sharkticons advanced. They stomped the cavern floor, snarling and gnashing their teeth.

Ranger Captain Falval gave command to the defensive. Three sharks shifted to animal form and charged.

Two rangers called for the their power rods and with a great leap, sunk their weapons into Sharkticon optics. The 'victimized' Sharkticons roared and stumbled about until another ranger locked his target with a BlackJack .21. A clean-cut hole seared through each of the monster's bodies.

Two other Sharks exploded from no visible source.

While the remaining Sharkticons attacked the rangers at the forefront, Galdain Tu pushed himself off the computer consol and produced a concealed weapon: a miniature version of a Draconis .95 Burster. He pointed it at Koontah.

A female Wancheeah leapt to Koontah's side. Bound in armor, she took a defensive stance just a foot in front of him.

But Koontah did not need protection. Galdain Tu fired.

The shot bolted half way before it paused in mid air and reversed, jamming into the Quintesson's weapon. The gun shattered and crisped Galdain Tu with it.

Parkal screeched a command at the remaining Sharkticons. From nowhere, a bolt of lightening shot down Parkal's form, disintegrating his body. Ear-splitting thunder followed. Confused, remaining Sharkticons hesitated to follow orders, giving the rangers that much time to set charges.

"STOP!" Dregmoont called behind Galdain Tu's smoking form. "You'll kill us all!"

"Oh, look, Koontah!" Weezy mocked loudly, "A Quintesson with common sense."

Rather than answer his companion, Ambassador Koontah and Beautaxan approached the trembling miscreant alien.

Dregmoont's tentacles snapped at the tips. His Face of Vengeance, bedecked with an orange crown, watched as Koontah slowly climbed the wreckage of a Sharkticon body. His sister aided his ascent by sound and word.

They stood atop the shoulder joint and Koontah paused, listening and sensing everything around him. "Where were we? Oh yes, that's right. I needed one of you to come to Cratis with me to re-encode the transmitter. You can re-encode it, can't you, Dregmoont?"

"Ambassador, I implore you not to force your hand. It's painfully true-"

"Nah-uh." Koontah objected. "No more mind games. Honestly, will your species EVER learn? Or are you truly as hopelessly arrogant as you have been in the past? Dregmooont, I'm only asking you to do what you're told, how hard can that be?"

"The Merchandise must never reach their full potential."

"Why?"

Dregmoont forgot his fear a moment and dared but half an inch toward Koontah. Bootsey beside him turned her head just as slightly. Her stone-set gaze flickered like a snake wound tight.

"Ambassador," Dregmoont's voice dropped a pitch. "Try to imagine a species so capable of imitation they could easily copy and replace another life form. Transformers were designed to silently replace entire races of people, to repopulate entire solar systems as to prepare for the onslaught of Unicron."

"Unicron was destroyed. Even the one responsible for making Unicron's body is now imprisoned within the body of a bug."

"Yes, the threat is over. But the weapon designed to combat the threat is not."

"So you're telling me that eventually Transformers will carry out this ultimate design? They will copy other life forms, take their place and prepare for war?"

"Humans are not the first and only species-"

"You're lying, Dregmoont. Just who do you think you're talking to?"

"I'm trying to spare a future where all life forms will eventually be wiped out and replaced with mechanical beings. Imagine the simple, comforting beat of an organic heart replaced by the unemotional vibration of a laser core."

Koontah faced Bootsey on his right and tightened the blindfold about his eyes. "Boots, have I ever mentioned how much the Randuth Alveen confuse me?"

Beautaxan smiled sweetly. "Do you need an interpreter, Koontah?"

The Wanakian ambassador bowed his head in thought. He was silent for half a moment then gazed upward with a deep breath. "No. I just want him to do as he's TOLD!" Koontah pointed a finger at the Quintesson. He swept about, facing the upper entranced wall.

Dregmoont's form shot across the chamber and collided against the wall with a sickening splattering sound. The Quintesson plopped to the ground, dazed.

Beautaxan and Koontah descended from the mount of Sharkticon scrap and approached Dregmoont. Weezy met them half way and the trio faced the wounded alien with stern expressions.

Koontah bared his second incisors: "Dregmoont, we can do this one of two ways: my way. Or my way."

The Quintesson gazed at Beautaxan then at Weezy before switching to his Face of Greed. "Very well, Ambassador. What do you need from me?"

** **

_Optimus recognized that city. Many things changed as things do, but the essential shape and location of the city/spaceport remained._

_Wait a second. He gazed at the city from the wrong angle. Just a moment ago he was surrounded by buildings. _

_He smelled the stench of ages-old roads, of alien vehicles and heard the voices of over a million people._

_Now his consciousness hung in the middle of nowhere at all. Amid disorientation and confusion, Optimus wondered if anyone knew of his present state of being._

_ What of his companions?_

_Movement from the horizon diverted Prime's musings and he watched the sky unravel as though devoured by a shredder._

_ Prime glanced everywhere and saw afar off the same event. Now he recognized his location: caught in a subspace stream, he hovered above his destination. How long he had been there he could not say; the structure of time differed in the travel streams. _

_The world about him fizzled. He felt rather than heard colored static and noise._

_Gravity sucked him down. He fought against it until his hands moved. His laser core vibrated strongly. Fuel lines surged with power as though freshly awakened._

_The teleportation process completed the cycle and Prime returned to his body. But the shock of the moment cut his strength and Prime's legs buckled under. He landed hard on his knees. Systems diagnostics kicked in but they failed to clarify his disconcertion. It took several moments for the Autobot to realize he sat in a room. _

_He noticed Galvatron to his right. And instinctively, the Autobot leader sensed Cyclonus' presence nearby. Movement dragged his attention from himself toward the front-right. Dimly Prime perceived snakes moving in and out. One snake raised then disappeared behind the face of a computer consol. _

_The contemptuous face of a Quintesson greeted the three of them with Death_. It's tentacles danced silently as the creature scrutinized the three Transformers.

_ Had ... had he, Galvatron and Cyclonus been captured right out of subspace? How could that even be possible?_

The Draun teleport felt far smoother in its transition compared to the crude Decepticon space bridges. Galvatron honestly never liked the space bridge. It was a tool to get from place to place but its unpredictability often made it unreliable. Space bridges depended on gravitational and electro-magnetic energies. Every planet produced a unique signature along the electromagnetic spectrum and aligning a fickle piece of equipment to each planet was tricky at best.

Galvatron sank to his knees and turned inward for a diagnostic and a sense of place and time. At first he thought himself tumbling freely through nothingness, though he was completely aware. Now he occupied his body in a room at a temperature of seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit.

Someone spoke in soft, slow tones.

Cyclonus.

At first his words did not register. Galvatron's disorientation forbade him to ask his companion to repeat.

A second voice unpleasantly vibrated around Galvatron: "The disorientation is temporary-unfortunately. The electromagnetic fields on Draun are vastly different than Cratis. However, if you feel the disorientation is extreme enough to force your systems into permanent stasis lock, please do so without utilizing a self-destruct sequence."

Both Galvatron and Optimus Prime raised weary, static-ridden optics to face the Quintesson presently speaking to them. The two heard Cyclonus activate his weapon as he stepped between them.

Dregmoont switched to Face of Vengeance and smiled. "Not to worry. Decepticon, your weapons cannot work for another ten Cratian minutes. Electromagnetic reorient-"

"Can it, Dregmoont," came another voice, speaking in Common Trade. Koontah stepped in round the corner. "Computer, lights."

"Ambassador, no one here needs to see by-"

"Hey!" Weezy snapped behind him. "The ambassador told you to shut it!"

Koontah turned to the three robots in the transport. "I thought we were transporting one Autobot; hopefully an Autobot leader."

Weezy ruefully grinned. "Maybe he picked up hitch hikers. Kinda like rocks lodged under a shoe."

Koontah's ears bent forward. "You know, Optimus Prime, most people will bring home things like pets or groceries. You bring Decepticons. Does Rodimus know about this?"

Optimus, still on his knees beside Galvatron, smiled. "Hello, Ambassador. I was not expecting to run into you."

Galvatron stared at the Human-sized creature before them. A blue sash tied his eyes from view. The other creature of similar design--short fuzzy fur and a tail (while Koontah had none)--grinned in a ridiculous manner. Galvatron dragged his optics to Optimus Prime for an explanation.

Koontah smiled. "A sweet young lady is very worried for you. Where I come from, it is an honor to assist a lady in distress. So here I am. However, looking for you has proven something of a challenge. Turns out Squid Legs behind me and his late companions tried to mess with gravitational passways used by teleport devices. It took me an agonizing number of hours to unravel their mess. Then miracle of miracles, some backwater, slum-infested asteroid blows up. No explanation. But since several black markets had their hands invested in it, it became interplanetary matter. I don't dabble in politics, but I knew what happened and managed to find you and traced the damage here."

Optimus dimmed his optics in disbelief. "How . . . how did you manage to get the Quintesson to cooperate?"

Weezy grinned ever broader. "Oh, Koontah knocked the thack out of him."

The ambassador looked surprised at his companion's choice of words. "Weezy!"

"I mean, he kicked the living shit out of him."

"Weezy! Show a bit of respect. You stand before Transformer aristocracy."

"I mean he _mopped_ the floor with his tentacles."

"Can't be much of a clean floor," Galvatron muttered.

Koontah turned from Weezy back to the Transformers. "Unfortunately, I can't stay. The damage they've done is spreading faster than I can contain it."

Optimus realized the ambassador meant time infractions. He leaned forward, very concerned. "What do you think will happen?"

Koontah crossed his arms and tilted his head left, indicating distress. He sighed uneasily. "More than I can fix all at once, unfortunately. I can't undo the past. I can't control every single event in the present. The amount of damage done by these lumbering, arrogant, thoughtless sli'kikik will be felt for a long time to come. What I can do is prevent a temporal crash."

Optimus did not know what that meant, but he suspected the ambassador planned something drastic. "How bad?"

"Four years. I'm going to shift the present time stream and push it ahead by four years. It'll save your people, keep three solar systems from imploding and piss the Quintessons off simultaneously."

Galvatron tossed a wide grin at Dregmoont who returned with a dirty snarl.

"Unfortunately," Koontah added, "the time advancement only prevents catastrophe. It won't fix time flashes. Hopefully things will stabilize in a few more months. And we need to go! Weezy, bring the luggage."

Optimus Prime stood as the long-eared Wancheeah rounded behind Dregmoont and unclasped an energy chain. He tugged at it. "Come along, Cutie-Pie. The ambassador says we have to go, now."

"No!" Dregmoont whined. "We had a deal! He said he'd not kill me!"

"Oh, he'll let you live," Weezy answered, tugging at the chain until the Quint shifted to his Face of Hate. Galvatron almost burst with laughter. A ring hung from Hate's nostrils, connected to the chain.

Weezy tugged until the Quint had no recourse. "Oh, he'll let you live, Dregmoont. He just didn't say where. Personally, I hear Torqulon is open for new clients."

Koontah slipped back into the room and peeked round the corner. "Oh, one more thing, Optimus Prime."

"Yes?"

"Next time Earth undergoes a hostile take-over, be sure to consult with me for a civilized rendezvous point."

Optimus looked askance, "I chose Cratis because of its natural hostility toward Quintessons from parasites to electromagnetic fields. It appears, however, I was wrong."

"No, no. You were right. Dregmont's here because he's with us. Bye for now!"

**EARTH DATE 2042**

**Location: Planet Cratis**

Galvatron stood as the world around them wavered and blurred then stabilized. Fractional cracks in the walls widened. The room appeared older; the structure even sagged. Other than those clues, the Decepticon found no immediate difference due to the change in time.

Prime glanced about the room and wondered if Ambassador Koontah realized he failed to tell them exactly where they were.

Fortunately, Cyclonus had excellent natural navigational abilities. He led Galvatron and Optimus out the room, up an old cement stair well and to the smelly humid, temperate outside world.

The city greeted them with bustling, confusing noises. Automobiles, busses, personal transports and pedestrians vied for space and speed in four directions.

Towering buildings crowded out the daylight, competing in height and occupation capacity. Privately owned small businesses hedged the larger, more intimidating sky scrapers like little bushes nestled at the trunk crown of large trees. Galvatron turned to his Autobot companion. "Shall we ask for directions?"

Rather than answering, Prime stepped off the curb and transformed. Due to damaged subspace connectors, he could not call forth his trailer.

A horrific honking echoed through the city's intersection and a thin ray of red light ordered all traffic to come to a halt along the north-south throughway. From their left-and presumably the western side of the city-Galvatron spotted an inter-city transport. It barreled toward them a whole level above their heads like living thunder tap dancing between hot and cold fronts.

Galvatron switched to internal communication once it was clear the transport was not going to end any time soon. "Where to?"

"We're going to find a place to stay the night," Optimus answered.

Galvatron gazed at the metro train storming overhead. His optics turned to crowds milling along sidewalks, crossing streets and inhabiting vehicles by the carload. Aliens of ever description from Transformer-height to Earthen insects occupied every nook and crack in the city. The Decepticon frowned. "I hate crowds. Do you know your way around this place?" Prime gave him an affirmative as a group of females and their alien pets on leashes passed them. The train's faint blare boasted of the distance it traveled. At least one hundred fifty cars must have flown over them already. "Just how big is this city?"

"There's only two cities on the whole planet,"

came Optimus' answer.

The train abruptly ended and traffic going east-west halted so north-sound could take its turn. Prime rounded the corner and he drove while Galvatron and Cyclonus remained on the sidewalk. But Cyclonus kept peering toward the sky, his optics clearly indicating a longing to fly.

They traveled five blocks before turning right and traveled another three blocks. Here the traffic was not nearly as congested. A grand courtyard stretched along their right. Restaurants and specialty stores met their scant glances as Optimus pressed past the more pleasant area. One block further they encountered a large multi-leveled motel with different sized stories and three entrances, again, each of a different size.

Prime transformed to robot mode and led his companions in.

A female alien greeted the three mechs. Long leaves draped from the top of her head. Small, slender leaves graced her rounded face. She smiled at them and gelatin-like eyes shifted color. The alien's smile displayed three rows of bristle-like teeth, and her brown leathery skin scrunched up in wrinkles.

Optimus thought her charming.

"Do you have a reservation with us this evening?" she spoke in an old trade language, her accent thick and toothy.

"No. We just arrived planet-side," the Autobot replied.

"Ergstog," she said softly and hauled up a large book. "Our computer system is down for overhaul. Will you sign our book?"

Galvatron leaned close to Optimus: "None of us have identification."

Optimus leaned back to Galvatron with a mischievous smile. "That's another good thing about Cratis; they don't care who you are as long as you have money." He signed the book, using his fortress Maximus, Douglas County, USA, Earth as the address and paid for a large room for two nights, complete with room service. "By the way," Prime added as an afterthought, "we're in the need for stardrive interface repair kits. Do you know of a place that sells them?" She offered a map, a brochure and a short list of phone numbers.

Cyclonus led the way; Galvatron lagged behind Optimus. The Decepticon's sensors alerted him to the slightest of movements; a native lifting a bottle to his lips. a female's dress waved in the breeze of a large passing truck. Someone's child screamed as if it were the end of life. Someone from a window above dropped a photograph. A spider skittered across the sidewalk. The shadowy figure from a familiar shape slipped into the crack of a door.

Galvatron paused to stare. What he thought he saw, he hoped he did not. But he was not sure enough to alert his companions. Galvatron swept his gaze side to side, anticipating an attack. He lifted his optics skyward and listened to the world around him along all frequencies. Nothing. Galvatron did not give into imagination or consider dramatic moments. His optics narrowed, suspicious. He caught up with his companions but chose to keep his premonitions to himself.

Their room swung in a circular design. Two flatbeds sandwiched a single nightstand. A large flat screen television yawned across the wall. A solid metal desk squatted under it. A third bed lounged under a long window overlooking the street one story down.

Two decorative folding doors set the washroom aside. Peeking inside, Galvatron found a broad, square step-down tub filled with hot oil. A rinser dropped from the ceiling. Its shape, like a dragon's head, offered clean hot water from an open maw. Wash cloths, towels and buffers hugged the left wall and several small bottles of wax lined the back of the sink.

Galvatron grinned in sheer delight. "I get first dip," he proclaimed. Neither of his companions argued.

Cyclonus activated the television and flipped through all channels, searching local and inter-systemary news while Optimus laid face-down on the flatbed opposite the night stand. "Are you claiming that flat?" Cyclonus asked Optimus quietly.

"Hm."

"If so, I'd like to take the one by the window."

"Hmm . . .hm."

Cyclonus took that as a yes and sat on the window sill, his feet on the flat. He watched one news program after another, searching for any fragment, any word on Quintesson activity.

_The galactic conference ended today by a list of arguments and grievances. Ambassador Shux Wan Toi, charged with conspiracy, declared himself and his world innocent of charges of supporting Quintesson endeavors to eradicate all life on Planet Cybertron and invasion of the Terran system. Our conference correspondent has more details. Blatain?_

_Thank you, Parma. Tempers raged today as accusations shot from one side of the room to the other. Representatives from twenty-nine systems attempted to reconcile problems dealing with supernatural phenomena, abnormal shifts in many planetary orbits and their environments. Sources from Ablis IV state sightings have been reported concerning what they call illegal entities as per comments made by such officials as Ambassador Yukron Vorx from Cassandra Pi and Ambassador Koontah of Beta Centauri._

_The Council of Zhat-Tat-Tuk has yet to make positive identification of illegal dimensional access and existence. _

_Rumors suggest the very aliens allied with Quintessons may be the same group responsible for such atrocities as the massacre on Planet Mars, the sudden and tragic destruction of Monicus and the communication blackout with the Gemini system, Goudast Pau._

_Blatain Rote. ISN News, Statarus IV._

Optimus roused two hours and nineteen minutes after Cyclonus emerged from his bath. His Decepticon companions looked better. The Matrix thought them beautiful creatures. Deadly and graceful like dragons when the universe was yet young. The fact that neither Decepticon harbored arrogance, madness or hostility added to their charisma.

Optimus ignored what the Matrix thought of his companions. He sat up, feeling old and out-of-sorts.

A lint-free cotton towel landed over his head and Prime slowly peeled it off, meeting a deviously grinning Galvatron. "Your turn, pretty boy," the Decepticon all but sang. "I think the oil is still hot, though Cyclonus might have taken all the energy used to keep it that way."

"That was two hours and twenty-six minutes ago," Cyclonus protested.

"That's right!" Galvatron pulled Prime to his feet. "That means it's hot again and you need to use it before Cyclonus finds his way back in there! Off you go!" and he whacked Prime on the aft before closing the folding doors. Galvatron turned and reflected Cyclonus' grinning approval.

The Autobot leader exited the washroom feeling a good deal better. Time slipped away during his bath and he found his companions in shut-down upon his emergence. Optimus considered leaving a note before slipping out to do some light shopping. But as he started on the note, invisible teeth sliced his left side. Shock permeated his body so that he hissed inward, arched back and froze. The pain subsided at its own pace, too slow for Optimus to hide it from Galvatron as the Decepticon woke.

"Prime," he nearly whispered. "What's wrong?"

The sensation echoing through the Matrix lessened so that Optimus relaxed enough to answer. "It's Rodimus," he said quietly. He watched Cyclonus come to life and felt exposed. "I think the sooner we get there, the better."

"Then let's go now."

Prime shook his head. "Can't. There are supplies we need to get here-"

"We can always come back for-"

"-To convert warp engines."

Galvatron stared and Cyclonus half sat. The former Decepticon leader twisted his features into puzzlement. "Where the Pitt do you plan to go that you can't just use warp gates?"

Optimus slowly sat upon his flat. His back ached. "Yolthanis III and from there to Mechlatex."

Cyclonus sat up completely. "Mechlatex?" he echoed.

Galvatron couldn't believe Prime still entertained the mad idea of going to Mechlatex. He narrowed his optics. "Does Ultra Magnus have to go through this?"

"Through what?"

"You and your annoying tendency to give only half-answers. You're not telling me everything."

Optimus narrowed his optics, defiant, annoyed that Galvatron's gaze remained equally undeterred. "My subspace access ports are torn."

Both Decepticons stared speechless. Galvatron leaned forward, visibly concerned. "Why did you not say this sooner?"

Prime could not look at him. He wanted to lie. He wanted to make the problem sound like was not important.

"Never mind." Galvatron tried not to sound angry. He stood and walked toward a window before swinging back around. "I am not angry, Optimus. But for Primus' sake, if you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of your troops."

"I tore the Atrical Zyn on Monicus during the storm. I think the Decepticons there were planning on repairing the damage, but we left before they had the opportunity to do so."

He would have to mention Monicus, Galvatron thought. They left someone back there he did not want to abandon. Galvatron hated the choice between saving Optimus and staying with the ladies. Logically, rationally, he made the right decision. But emotionally, personally, he missed _her_. He missed Panda.

Cyclonus contemplated their situation then turned to Prime. "Why can't we join the Autobots now, get repairs and return?"

"It's too time consuming. The plan entailed a rendezvous here then a second regroup and restock on Yolthanis Three. But I don't know what condition the Autobots are in. And I am unable to contact Rodimus. Besides, I don't want too much activity taking place between Concentric City and the Autobots; physical or communicative. There's no telling who's spying here and for whom. The Quintesson might not withstand Cratis, but nothing says the Inoux can't."

Galvatron nodded. "And Cyclonus and I most likely have a price on our heads. We'd be endangering each other."

"That's why I wanted to arrive here first." Optimus added. "That and rations, medical supplies and extra weapons." Prime gazed at Galvatron's thoughtful expression. "And we need to get you a weapon.

"I have the one Cyclonus gave me on Monicus."

"I mean a _ real_ weapon." Prime insisted. Cyclonus found a powerful weapon, a Prism Eclipse .120 in excellent condition. Most weaponry shops kept its ammunition and accessories in stock. But Galvatron's rifle wouldn't upset a kitten. It came from Monicus, 'lifted' from a lesser-known manufacturer and could not be trusted.

Galvatron sat back on his flatbed, staring hard into Prime's optics. "And where will you find the technician or medic willing enough to keep his mouth shut as he repairs you?"

Cyclonus and Prime glanced at one another with no answers.

For three hours, they scanned newspapers, watched ads on the TV and poured through business listings for possible started his part of the research on his flatbed. Then he ended up sitting on the desk to annoy Optimus. Then he finally laid on the floor, on his back, clearly bored. He flipped through the same telephone registry that Cyclonus already examined. He disrespectfully dumped it overhead and absently reached for another book of listings. One newscast after another came, repeated and ended.

"HA!" Galvatron declared triumphantly. He dragged his aft off the floor and plopped the listings in Prime's lap. "There." here pointed to a small ad displaying a cartoon character holding a calculator.

Prime read the ad. "Wetware Tech? No. Galvatron-"

"What?"

"This doesn't say anything about subspace interface or nanite technology."

"Yes, it's a long shot but there's a chance they might think a little bit beyond magic crystals and vacuum tubes. Wetware is conjunctional between subspace frequencies and bio-electromagnetic impulses. And if this guy knows anything about wetware, chances are, he'll understand subspace dynamics."

Optimus was in no mood to argue

The business was open day and night like much the rest of the city. The three mechs followed a tall lanky alien into the front door and inspected the place before asking technical questions.

Optimus traveled down an isle displaying computer interfaces such as semi-organic transducer relays and contra-matter isolinier chips. He had to admit that Galvatron might be right. Wetware often utilized semi-organic transducer relays in such applications as organic brain waves to bio-mechanical suits without the necessity of cybernetic implants or bio-surgical upgrades to a machine's CPU. Such machines were owned by the Samblins for their exosuits.

"Can I help you?" a female clerk approached Cyclonus.

Cool as ever, Cyclonus spoke to her in low tones; "we are here seeking personal assistance."

"Sure! I'd be glad to help!"

"It's more involved than that."

"Okay. Um, are you looking for a new system? Maybe completely computerize your home-or upgrade your own features?"

"I have a . . . friend whose Atrical Zyn has been torn. We need an expert on subspace access ports."

She stared at Cyclonus a long moment then raised her voice. "Byron! This is _your_ department!"

Galvatron bade Prime to lie face-down on an exam table while a young alien male scanned up and down his body and silently made notes. Cyclonus watched a few feet away. Galvatron retreated as 'Byron' made a second scan. Prime appeared tense and nervous under the light.

Cyclonus watched the alien. He did not bother with the grace in which the copper-skinned young male moved. Nor did Cyclonus care about the smooth, symmetrical face in which Byron's dark, dark eyes sat, now framed by a set of glasses. Cyclonus watched his hands. Every tool or scanner underwent the Decepticon's scrutiny. Cyclonus prepared to de-brain the would-be medic if anything appeared even remotely fraudulent. But the alien never laid a hand on his Autobot patient. He said not a word until he completed the exam. "Your tachyon alignments are inconsistent with the present time stream. Are you a time traveler?"

Optimus hesitated to answer. He forcefully reminded himself he was not in a Quintesson lab. He fought memories of screams and pleas, of drills and droning voices. He purposefully breathed to keep systems from overheating. "I was dead." His mind hazed with nightmares. But the medic did not react to the odd answer.

"There are signs of severe trauma along the neural pathways. And there's indication of phasic deterioration. It might complicate things." Byron removed his glasses and set his scanner aside. The medic held his hands above Optimus' back. Closing his eyes, Byron sensed life force signatures and layers of energy. Cyclonus moved to retrieve his weapon as Byron lowered his hands on Optimus Prime. Galvatron held Cyclonus back with a touch to his shoulder.

Byron winced as though in pain. Small streams of energy zig-zagged about his fingers as he slowly ran them along Prime's back like a blind man reading brail. Byron paused a moment and opened his eyes. Tears tumbled over his cheeks and he sighed. "Uh, what's your name . . . Galvatron?"

"Yes."

"Can you come . . . help me out?"

Galvatron stepped up and flinched as if someone came too close to slapping him.

"I need you to just . . . lay your hands on his shoulders. I can't deal with the intense backlash on my own."

Galvatron did as requested and watched Byron move his hands down and over. Without a word, Byron produced a sonic repolarizer and gently opened an access panel along Optimus' right side. He lowered the tool and it beeped twice.

Prime made a fist with his right hand then let it go, but he did not utter a sound.

Byron drew a breath and pressed a separate switch and a drill from the same tool whined through the room.

He stopped and laid a hand on the Autobot's back. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm almost done."

The only sound Galvatron heard from Prime were several short shallow breaths. The Decepticon stared at Byron who took another moment to steady himself. "You're more than a telemechanic. You're empathic."

"I'm slightly empathic. Your friend here is very empathic and has some damage done to his shields."

"How is it that you are so in tune with robotic life forms? You do not look robotic."

"I'm a Class One telemechanic. I can touch-read any mechanical device. I can also control mechanisms and bio-mechanisms from a distance of fourteen hundred miles. I understand seven thousand versions of technology including base, dos, hex and binary. I can even read your mind if I wanted to. Which is why I left my home world to escape exploitation."

Byron took another deep breath. The drill whined again and Galvatron sensed Optimus slipping into unconsciousness.

The drill stopped and Byron wiped his eyes. He stepped back and measured Prime with a long gaze. He turned to his work station and from a locked box, the alien mechanic revealed two silver-blue spheres. Galvatron thought he heard them chime when Byron moved his hand.

Galvatron narrowed his optics. "Those are not nanites."

"No. They're bio-mechanoid re-synchronizers." Byron hovered one sphere aloft just above the open panel. The sphere melted between his fingers into Optimus' body. A moment's pause later it resurfaced and tumbled to the floor. Byron repeated the process with the second orb then scooped both objects off the floor. He locked the spheres back in their box then gently sprayed the affected panel with chemically warmed lubricant.

Optimus sighed and finally relaxed.

They paid the telemechanic with high-grade energon chips and purchased sixteen navigation reformatters. Optimus wondered if they needed more, but Byron had no others on hand.

The minute the three mechs stepped out, Optimus transformed and called his trailer out of subspace. Roller zipped out and disappeared round the next street corner. Roller came and left as he so chose, chirping to indicate his location. Twice he ran in the wrong direction along a one-way street and was almost got caught speeding.

Galvatron eyed everything around them with a deep frown. People and vehicles came and went. He hated the city noise. Optimus sensed Galvatron's discomfort and made sure they kept to quieter, less populated streets

Visiting one store after another, Optimus purchased odds and necessities. Galvatron engaged in price wars at a few shops and Cyclonus caught one merchant selling faulty wares. They purchased hard-to-find tools, organic food, medicine and a drawing tablet.

Galvatron eyed the tiny tablet of paper with reasonable doubt. "I hope you're not into collecting miniatures."

"It's for Rusti." Optimus answered simply.

"Rusti again," the Decepticon muttered. He took the tiny tablet and shook it at Prime, "She'd better be worth the amount of mooning and brooding you do over her."

Cyclonus peered round Galvatron's shoulder, his optics focused on Prime but he spoke to Galvatron: "Panda."

Prime caught the tablet when Galvatron dropped it from embarrassment. And yes, Optimus confirmed to himself, the Mighty Galvatron _blushed_.

Neither Cyclonus nor Optimus laughed out loud. They smiled, optics lit, when Galvatron drew himself up and walked off as if silently denying the accusation.

Galvatron's reaction was amusing, but Optimus felt badly for his friend. They would never see the ladies again.

They visited several more shops before stepping into an electronic library. Cyclonus bee-lined for the newsstand while Optimus settled into an ancient records station connected to intersystemary newsfeeds.

Galvatron leaned against the wall next to him. He kept a sharp optic out for his companions. "You're not planning on buying the library, too, are you, Prime?"

Scanning through old news topics, the Autobot shook his head. "Can't take it with us."

Galvatron leaned over. At first he thought about speaking to Prime internally, but chose against it in case the communiqué got picked up by someone else's electronic device. "_What are you looking for and haven't you run out of funds, yet?"_

Prime did not take his optics off the listings report. "First, I'm looking for anything to do with Procyon System. Ever notice how there's almost never any news from that region?"

Galvatron grunted. "That's because Mechlatex is ruled by a tyrannical fanatic who suffers from delusions of godhood. And if he's been having problems, the last thing he'll want is news that might hint of a weakness."

Prime looked to his companion, surprised at the excellent deduction. He turned back to his search. "And no, I've not run out of funds."

Galvatron leaned closer. "If I had known you had that much currency on you-"

"It's not _on_ me, Galvatron. I established an account here fifteen years ago-oh, I think we have something."

Galvatron found the date: "This was twelve galactic years ago."

_Old video recordings from archeologist Dr. Relatan were found under lock and key when authorities investigated the murder of his great-granddaughter Elenshal. The disturbing footage included a cryptic message by the late doctor himself, a tour of Laktromycix, the capital city of Planet Mechlatex and a vast underground network of tunnels and caverns, many of which are filled with millions of robots._

Prime did not like what he was reading.

Galvatron narrowed his optics. "Someone's been busy."

"I wonder what the cryptic message was."

Galvatron tapped the monitor. "This was thousands of years ago, Optimus. If you plan to take a trip to Mechlatex, you'll need more current information."

Prime stared at the monitor, dissatisfied and hopeless.

Early evening city traffic intensified, scooting along like ants in a traffic jam. Optimus decided not to drive and the three mechs swam among a river of faces. Galvatron kept close to Prime, constantly averting his optics from faces and staring eyes.

"I hate crowds," he muttered.

Optimus picked up on Galvatron's anxiety and led his companions into the enclave of a closed shop. The throng of people passed them, heedless.

"We could find a place to wait out the traffic," Prime offered.

Galvatron grew annoyed but did not look at his companion. He thought Prime insinuated his immense dislike for crowds acted as a liability and therefore an impediment to their goal. His optics flashed then he turned to Prime. But Optimus' attention was not on him at all. Galvatron weighed Prime's attitude verses his take on what the Autobot said and decided Optimus meant nothing demeaning. "What?" Galvatron joked, "and leave these fair streets and miss being bombarded by millions of smelly organic bodies? We'd not get to hear the latest gossip, the foul language and see all the freaks and weirdos populating this lovely little town."

Prime scowled and crossed his arms, glancing once at Cyclonus, "Has he always been so masterful with sarcasm?"

"Always," Cyclonus replied smoothly. "Sometimes it's worse; he'll think he's funny."

Galvatron turned to them with a ridiculous grin. "We could take pot shots at them."

Cyclonus and Prime shifted nervously. Optimus shook his head, knowing Galvatron was only joking. "You'd make more of a mess of their smelly bodies, Galvatron."

"If you can't beat them, pulverize them."

"You just had a bath." Optimus countered.

Galvatron took to pacing the small space. Left to right. Right to left, back and forth. Optimus finally intervened. "Are you demophobic, Galvatron?"

The Decepticon silently snarled. He didn't want to drown in the rush of traffic, but he wasn't happy cooped up, either.

The commuter train shrieked overhead as it thundered above city traffic. Galvatron clasped his hands about his helm and lowered to his knees, now overcome with sensory bombardment. Prime knelt in front of him but knew better than to touch him.

_Wait it out,_ he projected. _Stay with me. Wait it out._

Galvatron froze his optics on Prime and concentrated drowning out the noise, drowning out the crowds. The world moved around them, milling and climbing and scampering like billions of bugs. Their eyes stared at him, ever present like Unicron. Galvatron felt cloistered, imprisoned.

Several minutes lingered.

The commuter train passed. Vehicles sped by. The crowd dwindled. No one laid a hand on Galvatron's itchy exostructure. The bugs did not crawl on him, they simply moved around.

Darkness descended the city. Street lights burned to life. The crowds thinned to a tolerant level. Optimus remained silent, still, a sanctuary amid madness. Galvatron calmed and shame shadowed his face. He turned away, unable to speak.

"It's okay," Prime assured him. "You're okay."

But Galvatron could not answer.

Prime stayed silent and did not move. For the first time in his life, he saw the child within the former Decepticon leader.

No, not child, Optimus amended, the _person_.

Galvatron forced half a laugh. "No wonder the Decepticons kicked me out."

"This has nothing to do with your ability," Prime gently countered. "You're just as capable and competent as I. This does not diminish your intellect or your power. It simply proves you're a person, Galvatron; someone who feels and desires, who can be wounded and tell really bad jokes. And I am honored to know this person."

That brought an honest smile to Galvatron's features. He felt the same for Prime. But now he had gratitude and greater respect. Optimus understood.

Galvatron stood. "Cyclonus, let's get Optimus Prime back to the hotel before I turn into something warm and squishy."

Galvatron walked off first. Optimus quietly laughed while Cyclonus could not decide between puzzlement and disgust.

They did not get further than one block toward the hotel when a horn blared from behind. All vehicles along the street parted to either side, giving room to four huge armored cars. As they passed Galvatron and Prime, a building up the street exploded.

Galvatron spun about face and frowned at Cyclonus. "Looks like we must seek a detour."

Two blocks down the cross-street another building exploded. Galvatron and Cyclonus scanned the carnage, the screaming people, the blaring sirens and the billowing smoke. They looked to Prime.

Optimus watched on as two groups of males emerged from the carnage and fought one another hand-to-hand. "Concentric City is run by three major mobs, the Aquarius Syndicate, the Leonid and the House of Twelve. The Syndicate and the House have been at war for the last five hundred years. The Leonid keep the status quo between the two mobs. It's how they control the city. He turned from the scene and walked to the corner from which they started. They'd have to return to the motel in a round-about route.

Galvatron followed Prime in succession while Cyclonus lingered. "We're not staying for the grand finale?"

His joke fell flat on Galvatron but Optimus' sudden stagger did not. Galvatron caught Prime as he blacked out cold. Just like the day before, Galvatron thought he spotted a figure of darkness slip from crevice to shadow and it distracted him from the flash of dark crossing Prime's optics.

Optimus lay motionless. His optics stared into nothing and he responded to nothing Galvatron said.

Cyclonus glared at gawkers and passersby as Galvatron scanned Prime and tried to rouse him. Cyclonus flared his optics once, frightening off an alien and his over-sized animal companion.

"He's not responsive at all, Cyclonus," Galvatron sounded lost.

"I suggest we find a place out of public view, Galvatron. And what are you STARING at?" Cyclonus snorted at a two-headed alien who gave him a wide berth, glancing back over his shoulders.

Galvatron half lifted their Autobot companion and pressed Prime's helm to his audio. With a surge, Galvatron stood and hefted his fallen friend. "We must get out of here before we attract unwanted attention."

The Decepticon jet glanced one way then another, using his navigation skills to plot the best route. Without a word, Cyclonus led Galvatron round the next bend, left and into a dimly-lit ally. Galvatron followed, mindful of possible territorial gangsters or muggers, while Cyclonus darted from hiding place to shadow, his weapon held in caution.

"Wait . . . Cyclonus." Galvatron halted when Prime's form twitched. The Decepticon lowered to his knees and rechecked Prime's life signs with similar frustrating results: no readings; nothing to indicate anything was wrong.

Optimus' optics flashed on and dimmed but he did not notice Galvatron holding him. Cyclonus waved his hand once in front of the Autobot's face; still no results.

An eerie black shape crossed the blue color and Prime's optics fell dark. With a speechless exchange between them, Galvatron and Cyclonus agreed to press forward.

They managed back to the motel and Galvatron laid Prime on his flat while Cyclonus swiftly closed all the curtains. He returned to Galvatron, waiting for whatever should happen next.

"I don't know what to do." Galvatron said.

"Should we contact an expert?" Cyclonus folded his arms and laid an optic on the list given them by the desk clerk.

Galvatron shook his head. "I do not wish to expose us any further."

"Perhaps, Galvatron, something went wrong when he had the subspace access ports repaired."

"No. I doubt this has anything to do with the repairs."

***

_The world about him morphed and mutated._

_Buildings took on faces, some more than one._

_Optimus felt as though he'd walked into one of Rusti's storybooks._

_The structures stared at him with Quintesson eyes: that same death-glow; judgmental, condescending._

_"So, tell us, Sor Que Pang, what does this one have to offer?"_

_That voice came from across the street. Optimus raced through his processors, desperately searching to end the hallucination._

_The building behind him morphed into a head. An over-developed forehead shadowed its eyes as the pupils rolled back._

_The illusion was so complete, Optimus even felt the rush of cool air coming from the nostrils. "Whatever experiments were designated for the Optimus Prime files have all proven faulty and obsolete."_

_Prime backed into the street and his movements caught the attention of two more buildings. The first of these, an old bone-white with tiles at its corners, squinted one dead-yellow eye at him. "Was this not the same that Alpha Trion built? Was this one not designated as savior of his species?"_

_Other buildings joined in the discussion, muttering, accusing, arguing._

_"It's not true," Prime answered quietly. "He did not rebuild me. He did nothing."_

_A mauve-colored building surrounded by flowering shrubs leaned from the cross street. "No, no. Trion did what he could. He's the noblest of Autobots. You, however, are a failed attempt."_

_"It's not true-"_

_"How many warriors died under your leadership?" the first building demanded. "How many good Autobots died for a cause only you believed in?"_

_The bone-white frowned. "Don't tell us about the Robo-smasher. We know the real story."_

_"Why didn't you destroy the Robo-smasher sooner?"_

_"Why did you allow Megatron to get away more than once?"_

_"Why did you take the war to Plastax-Dy? Why did you go to Alasx IV? Morvan? Earth? Yolthanis III? Porquain? What idiot would spread his beliefs and conflicts to other peoples? Other worlds? Other lives?"_

_"Who do you think you are?"_

_"Primus will make you suffer for it all!"_

_"May you drink their misery!"_

_"I hope you suffer every bit as much as they do!"_

_"You're a vomitous reject!"_

_"You'll never have peace again. Did you think you'd get away without paying for the war?"_

_"Don't you know that's why they brought you back? You have to pay for your sins."_

_"You dragged Rodimus into this. He'll pay for your bad decisions."_

_They laid Prime upon a stone alter. It spoke evil things to him and mocked everything he ever did._

_A spike shot up and pierced his right thigh. Another came up from his back and protruded through the corner of his upper right shoulder. Another spike staked his left leg so that all he could do was lay there and bleed to death._

_Galvatron touched him._

_No, Optimus thought, don't touch me. You'll be contaminated. You'll die just like everyone else._

_He did not deserve kindness. He did not deserve anything good or happy. He brought the war. He was responsible. He caused the death of millions upon millions. He swam in their blood._

_Optimus turned away, ashamed._

_Void purred._

***

Silence spanned between them as they waited fifteen minutes, then two hours, then four.

Cyclonus finally sighed and grumbled just enough to get Galvatron's attention. "I don't suppose the problem might be caused by the same manifestation as we encountered on Monicus, is it, Mighty One?"

Galvatron hesitated to answer. The corners of his lip components tightened. "I don't know," Then the former Decepticon leader turned to his quiet-spoken friend. "And _you're_ the mighty one, Cyclonus."

Just the hairline of a grateful smile touched Cyclonus' lip components. The moment ended, however when Optimus' hands covered his face.

He rolled to the left, unable to face them.

"Optimus," Galvatron's voice came as a whisper.

"It's Roddi," the Autobot leader mourned. "I can't help him. Not like this."

"What's going on?"

Reluctantly, Prime faced his companions and struggled to suppress revealing expressions. He wanted to lie. He wanted to pull on that 'everything's fine' mask. But even if he could, the black-out said otherwise. The best he could do to salvage the moment was put aside the inner pain.

Void mocked him.

Galvatron settled on his own flatbed and Cyclonus slowly sat beside him. They stared, silent, but expecting an answer.

Prime tried to chose his words carefully but the Viral attack he felt through Rodimus left his own mind a tangled mess. Bloodlust coupled with regret diverted Prime's attention. Concentrate!

_Where is our supposed god, Primus? _

_We are abandoned to the solar winds; pathetic and forgotten. HELLO! Your underlings are about to die!_

_You played this game before. Do you hate us this much? Did you know the Matrix is corrupt? Do you even care?!_

Galvatron finally crossed one leg over another and leaned forward. "Perhaps you wish to explain the thing that possesses you, Optimus." That earned him a sharp, surprised expression and Galvatron realized for the first time how Prime did not have as much control over his emotions as he once did.

"Yes. You do have a right to know," the Autobot leader admitted sadly. "It may affect you, also."

"What are you talking about?"

Prime almost could not bring himself to say it: "The Matrix is infested with an alien virus." He paused before adding the rest: "And it's killing me and Rodimus. It's . . . we're infected." He paused again, optics on the floor. "Magnus . . . he should have-but did not."

Galvatron stared hard then touched Prime's knee. "Mechlatex?" he whispered. "You're going to Mechlatex because of the Virus?"

Prime gazed at the Decepticon, wondering why the news did not ruffle Galvatron more. "Yes . . . but how did-"

"They scanned you on Monicus. We saw it but did not know what it was. It has a personality, does it not?"

Optimus did not want to answer that. He did not like to think of Void-the Virus as anything more than a highly sophisticated program. It did speak to him on a number of occasions. It planned its attacks. It desired things no mere program should. Optimus dodged the question for another objective: "Galvatron, if the Virus has attacked Rodimus, chances are he's incapacitated. It means I'll need your help to keep things in order while we install the hyperdrives."

Galvatron studied Prime's demeanor. That flicker of darkness just crossed Prime's optics again. He stole a glance in Cyclonus' direction. "Of course we'll help, Prime, I was wondering how long you've been infected ... and _affected_. How powerful is this thing?"

Again, Optimus wanted to evade the truth. But this time he chose to face the facts. "I don't exactly know how long I've been infected. I do know the Virus is powerful enough to attain a physical form."

Even Cyclonus dropped his lower mandible and visibly flinched. But the Decepticon jet recovered his composure. Prime felt even more vulnerable. He stared at Galvatron's feet before him. "Perhaps it's better you did not come with me." he said after a brief silence. "We may not come through this alive."

Galvatron uncharacteristically shrugged. He stole yet another glance at Cyclonus, clearly recalling the many times The Decepticon jet said something similar to him. Galvatron smiled forcibly, lifting only half his face. "What's that saying they had on Earth? In for a penny, in for a pound? I did not come all this way just to leave you like a fly in the wind, Optimus Prime. I'm not afraid."

Optimus shot him a dead-serious look, but said nothing.

Optimus rested through mid morning. Galvatron ordered room service and studied a city map while he and Cyclonus waited for the Autobot leader to recover. Time ticked away and Galvatron suppressed the itch nagging him. Prime's uncompleted shopping list pressed at the back of the Decepticon's mind.

Cyclonus watched the news and Galvatron sensed his friend's consternation. He set the map aside and waited for the lieutenant to notice the stare. "What are you looking for, Cyclonus?"

"Signs of Skorponok's activities. I find it suspicious that we ran into Swindle and yet have not seen anyone else." Cyclonus frowned. "Skorponok himself may or may not care about the galaxy in general, but Lord Zarak is malicious and vindictive. Even if they considered you dead, I am still missing. Skorponok may count that as treason."

That hit Galvatron between the optics, "do you think he's hunting us, Cyclonus?" "Not unless he thinks-or knows-we're alive."

And just as Cyclonus said it, Galvatron realized what that statement meant. And just as Cyclonus said it, Galvatron picked up on the lieutenant's thought. "Swindle," they chorused.

Prime slept a while, woke thirty minutes later, slept again and moaned as though waking were painful. He sat up after two hours when Galvatron sniggered over a commercial. Prime's head sifted through bizarre, dark dreams. He missed Rusti's voice.

"Here. You need this more than I." Galvatron handed him a bit of energon. But Optimus simply sat there holding it. His jumbled thoughts tossed his emotions from one end of the spectrum to another.

Or maybe it wasn't he, but Rodimus. _My head is not my own, _he gloomily thought.

Galvatron sat next to him and laid a hand on Prime's left shoulder.

Optimus' head cleared and he gazed at his companion. "I'm sorry." he frowned over the energon.

Galvatron's stare intensified. "Prime, drink the energon. I don't think we don't have a lot of time."

Optimus did not think to question Galvatron's rush. He finished what energon was given and Galvatron gave him another. Cyclonus checked his weapon and Optimus felt compelled to do the same but decided not to bother.

They finally left the motel toward mid-afternoon during the lull of traffic. Galvatron walked side by side with his Autobot companion. He constantly fought down the temptation to glance at Prime every few steps. Optimus' entire demeanor changed to silence, his optics saw nothing and he moved slowly.

They left the neighborhood of clean stores and 'family-oriented' areas and traveled downhill then underground to the space docks and shipyards. The top side of Concentric City sat upon several great and ancient pillars supporting a platform that projected off an enormous escarpment. The cliffs on either side created half a hand-made cavern large enough to move battle cruisers in and out both by air and sea. Galvatron understood why Optimus picked Concentric City: the place withstood the test of meganiums. The city might even be as old as Cybertron.

As grand a scale as Contentric City stood, its underside lay in disrepair. Sidewalks crumbled to gravel and paved roads bore scars of heavy-loaded trucks. Optimus lingered a moment or two at each dilapidated parking lot or unmarked facility. Sadness settled over him, wearing him down. The filth and decay reminded him of many abandoned places on Cybertron. Disintegrating buildings occupied the city's underworld like abused and dying trees. Their weary stature reflected Prime's growing despondency. Several trucks passed the three mechs. Their large tires growled along the road, their grinding engines reminded the Autobot leader of dying city power cores, the very heart that kept so much of Cybertron alive during many wars.

The sounds and memories dragged him into a spiral of emotional oppression. Optimus' footsteps shortened and slowed. They passed by a forlorn manufacturing facility suffering from abuse. Its shattered windows and dismal walls reminded the Autobot of one lost battle after another.

The Virus taunted Prime's attempt to remind himself of the good things that came from some of those same battles. People lived their lives under freedom. Children grew up never knowing enslavement. But how many lives lost? Whole towns disappeared, obliterated off the map. Rules and laws changed. Optimus paused, worn down. "I need to rest, Galvatron."

Without glancing to Cyclonus, Galvatron nodded. "Okay."

They found a sturdy cement bench at a vacant bus stop and Galvatron and Cyclonus sat on either side of Prime. They waited, watching vehicles pass and ancient or fancy space ships come and depart across the dirty water. Somewhere off, Galvatron heard angry shouts, the wail of law enforcement and exchange of weapon fire. He mused over the division of Concentric City life: the 'clean' upper section fraught with normalcy, families and people living day-to-day and 'below', the 'dirty dealers', the mob bosses and violence. The same tale of city life flourished in all parts of the universe, even Cybertron.

Optimus hunched over. Galvatron sensed the exhaustion and sympathized with Optimus' suffering. He laid a compassionate hand on the Autobot's shoulder. Tingling energy radiated from Galvatron's warm touch. Optimus felt it all the way down his back and into his chest. The weariness mysteriously lifted and with it, a slow throbbing pain the Autobot did not notice before. The touch brought Optimus out of his stupor. He felt better but could not say how.

Galvatron, who was not aware of what his touch did for the Autobot, hunched over and settled his elbows on his legs. He steepled his fingertips and fixed his optics across the horizon toward the giant under-city airport. "What is going on with Rodimus? It _is_ Rodimus, isn't it?"

Optimus wanted to lie and say he did not know but Galvatron earned the truth. "He's in a lot of pain ... and I'm losing contact with him."

"Then we should not linger."

Prime agreed and forced himself to move.

They passed a large hanger bay and several boat ramps before moving further inland. Galvatron marveled at the sight; there was little to no indication on the city's surface that this whole other world lay here. The under-city stretched for miles.

Optimus led them past crumbling sleazy motels, rundown restaurants and several damaged shops, boarded up and pasted with signs forbidding entry. The further inland the trio progressed the thicker the crowds. People came, went, stopped, shopped, yammered and came in packs. At certain intersections, the multitude compacted so badly, it seemed the very air stiffened from a lack of oxygen.

Galvatron itched, needing to fly above them. He tried to maneuver to the outside along the edge of the sidewalks and walkways, but other people simply ran into him and Galvatron glared dangerously.

Optimus watched his companion's behavior until they found the place he aimed for: an old worn bookstore filled with ancient books, digipads and scrolls. He slipped into the small store and practically grabbed Galvatron and pulled him and Cyclonus inside.

"Nootha D'Korth."

A pudgy little female with a cheerful smile greeted the three mechs as Optimus closed the door to the outside world. He noticed Galvatron's demeanor suddenly relaxed. The shopkeeper stamped the inside of an ancient, skin-covered book and set it atop an old digipad. The store smelled of dust, old paper and animal skins.

"Errrm ..." Galvatron did not understand the shop keeper. He turned to Prime, looking for an answer.

Calmly Optimus approached with one optic street-wise. "Nefesh trell." His voice came smooth, "Nefesh saluge. So-don reque quorpaque, staque. Nefesh reque komblee-auru. Pre taqual sh'chilin."

"Oh!" and her face lit up. She cantered down the counter. "Vistisas? Arble rel kemmal Transformers soy shrybre decascas saluge? Vi Porzhy Storm tren reque si-matroguth. Tu-pry?"

Prime turned to Galvatron. "She says there is a shop owner named Porshy Storm who sells good weaponry."

Galvatron's expression turned weary. "What did you say to her?"

"I just told her we needed some place quiet and I asked for a reliable weapons dealer and we're not afraid to pay for the information."

"I've never been to this planet. And I thought Monicus was bad."

Prime resisted the temptation to mention places worse than either Cratis or Monicus. He paid the bookshop owner for her time and information. In turn, she led them down a staircase and into a tunnel.

Galvatron walked beside Prime while Cyclonus kept an optic on their backs. "When do we get to visit a planet *I'm* familiar with, Prime?"

"We were on Monicus."

"Oh. Ha. Ha."

Knowing the Autobot leader was only giving him a hard time, Galvatron did not pursue the subject. He appreciated that Prime remained mindful of his discomfort among crowds. Galvatron realized the tunnel stretched into an alleyway, a private access area for owners and workers to motels, restaurants or other enterprises available in the under-city.

They arrived at a small shop protected by multiple forms of security. Prime stared into a window at a huge, handsome weapon. Galvatron and Cyclonus joined him in the moment of fixation. The sleek weapon required good arm strength. Its triangular, heavyset shoulder stock wrapped around the user's elbow. Specialized metal shielded the barrel at the nose. The impressive weapon contained enough power to be of military issue. The price tag burned with the weight of numbers written on it but the firearm seemed worthy of those digits.

"Hmmm . . ." Prime took the lead and entered the shop first. The Decepticons followed; Galvatron first then Cyclonus who glanced behind, searching for spying optics.

The familiar pungent smell of oils and liquid graphite sent surges down Cyclonus' backside. It had been quite a while since he smelled something quite so good, quite so familiar. The clean scent of a high-friction furnace wafted into the room from the shop's back end. It was pretty clear the shop owner not only sold weapons, but made his own ammo casings and magazines. The lieutenant did not miss the subtle scent of fire, molten metal and metal-strewn water.

Cyclonus found Galvatron and Prime loitering around a long counter top. Bulletproof, laser-resistant glass cases displayed weapons of every size, shape and lethality. The shop keeper, a burley fellow standing just a bit taller than Prime and Galvatron, wiped down a hand phaser. He grinned, proudly displaying missing teeth and a scar from the lower lip to his ear. He was an Ardarian, half Rhthamese and half Velegan. Good business people-if one could find an honest one.

"Purdy, i'n't it?" the Ardarian spoke Koine Trade-an uncomplicated, informal language used by traders and scavengers in the Leon Quadrant of Vega. Cyclonus mused that Galvatron should be delighted someone spoke a language that would not have to be translated.

"It's an industrial lightweight that packs a punch in the swampland of Telgos in the Leon system." The Ardarian unlocked the cabinet and used both of his huge hands to lend the weapon to Prime.

Optimus studied it as one would a cheap rock. "Yes, it's good for common street wear," he attested. "But we're looking for war weapons like the one in your display window."

The burley fellow's whole face lit up like fire works in New York City. "Ahh! You have refined taste, my friend! That's direct from Light Touch Industries, a real live piece of work it is, too!"

Galvatron and Prime glanced at one another in doubt as the shopkeeper procured the rifle from the window and carried it like a precious artifact. The squared laser rifle glinted dark silver in the light. It had perfect balance from shoulder stock to its blunt, triangular nose. The laser scope glowed dark purple and Galvatron instantly noticed the weapon utilized more than one type of arsenal. The shopkeeper plucked up a cloth and wiped his prints off the weapon as though he were unworthy to hold it. "Unfortunately, I have to sell your ammunition separately. I'm not supposed to allow you to load or charge a weapon like this-"

"What can you tell us about it?" Prime interrupted, patience waning.

"Oh. Heh, yes. The Ah-photonic Displacement Repolarizer has six settings including a self-destruct with an optional three-micron delay. It's operator-coded-something you won't find from Smat Enterprises or I-Space Corporation. The Ah-Photonic will work under water, under carbon dioxide and with or without an atmosphere AND it can withstand the assault of most weapons, anti-polarizers, high-powered laser rifles, pulsar weapons, even some bombs such as Quintesson star bombs and the lower-powered neutron bombs."

Galvatron crossed his arms. "Hmph. Sounds like it does everything but changes your filters."

Prime smirked but the joke was lost on the Ardarian. He cleared his throat and smiled courteously, but uneasily.

"How much?" Prime didn't care what it cost.

The Ardarian spouted off something close to a quarter trill in consciousness units. Galvatron scowled and turned away. Prime, however, expected as much.

"I don't have consciousness units. However:" Here he produced several chips of energon-lined currency. "I do have these."

"What's the composition?" The husky shopkeeper suddenly lost his friendly tone. "I don't take quartz anymore and don't think about winging your way with the Ah-Photonic by giving me mimic dust-I'll have you slammed in the desert prison so fast, your nuts and bolts will rattle."

"I come from Earth." Prime replied evenly. "There is no mimic dust. This is electrum."

Both Decepticons stared at the Autobot leader as if he lost his mind. The Ardarian's eyes widened, his jaw fell open as if Prime sprouted wings.

"Not possible."

Prime produced one such chip on the counter. "You can have it analyzed if you don't think-"

"How many?"

"Twelve. We trade with the Centaurians for their isotrype."

"Sold!"

Galvatron felt the same elation as a child whose mother just bought him a 'killer' toy. The shop keeper wrapped the new weapon in a fancy case, complete with a certificate of guarantee, instructions and an intersystemary number of contacts should they have questions.

Prime bought all the ammo the Ardarian had to offer, enough for all three of their weapons and extra boosters for Cyclonus' alternate mode's laser weapons.

The waning afternoon forced their shopping to a quicker pace. Optimus managed to find a few more navigation reformatters needed to install the hyperdrives on twenty ships. But he regretted not knowing the exact number they needed.

Galvatron shook his head. "So? Just _call_ Rodimus and ask."

"I would have done that sooner if I felt it was safe to use an Autobot frequency, Galvatron. I do not want to endanger their position."

"Then I'll do it."

"Oh. That should go over well," Optimus said sarcastically. "I can just imagine _that_ conversation: "Hello, R.P., this is Galvatron. I'm with Optimus. How many ships do you guys have?' As if he'd be willing to relay any information."

Galvatron did not pay much attention to Optimus' gripe. "R.P.? I like that! I think I'll use it sometime-say, Cyclonus, Optimus just made a funny!"

Cyclonus mutely nodded, not looking at all impressed.

Against his better judgment, Optimus decided to attempt to contact the Autobots, anyway. At least he could use internal communications and encrypt the message. He submitted one message, aiming first for Rodimus.

No answer. He tried again with similar results. Optimus tried to contact Ultra Magnus but static ate the communication line. "Something's wrong," he reported to his companions. Prime tried again then shook his head. "Blaster should have been able to pick up the signal and translate it instantly. Something's very wrong."

**Pt 3: On the Valley of Skulls**

Flying did not appeal to the Autobot leader, but given the circumstances, he did not argue with his companions. Galvatron flew through the stratosphere and kept steady. Cyclonus, however, dipped between spheres and flew upside down before performing a hairpin dip.

"Show off." Galvatron grunted.

Optimus was glad to find firm ground under his feet the second they landed at the Valley of Skulls. He stared afar toward the battlefield, wrought with life blood and carnage. Beyond that stood a monstrosity of such proportion the Autobot leader stared, awestruck.

Prime could not take his optics off the beast. How could the Virus attain such ability and power? What was to be done about it? Nothing. But he could try to find Rodimus. "I must find Roddi," Prime said internally. "But I cannot see the front lines from here."

Galvatron pointed to two Decepticon punks who crouched from a foxhole, taking potshots. "We could ask them."

"Ask them what?"

"I Don't know," Galvatron grinned, "but it'll be fun!"

Optimus followed the enthused former Decepticon leader as he almost flew to the 'cons. One turned to recharge his weapon and gasped, tapping his partner's shoulder.

"Hey!" the 'partner' snapped, "you made me . . . miss?" He stared half a second then jumped to a fighting stance. "Who are you?"

His companion slapped a new energon clip to his weapon and both panned left and right at the three strangers.

Galvatron took on a commanding tone, "this is not a tea party. Declare yourselves to me."

They hesitated and Galvatron glared.

"I'm Capper," the first replied, "this is Tapps." Capper now looked puzzled. "What am I telling you for?" he asked, "I don't even know you!"

"Right!" Tapps leapt, shifted to that of an alien bird then he and Capper combined into one tall Transformer and charged. Optimus flattened along the ground, Cyclonus back-flipped out of range but the sweeping fist caught Galvatron in the left cheek. He went flying, causing the Duocon to laugh, staring in his direction.

Prime tackled the forty-five foot robot and they rolled until the Duocon got the upper hand. He hauled Prime up by his neck.

Cyclonus shifted the charge on his weapon and fired into the giant's optic. With an irritated roar, the Duocon tossed Optimus aside and stomped for his new opponent.

Cyclonus tried to fire again, but the gun was slower to recharge. The Duocon aimed for a roundhouse kick. Cyclonus dropped the gun, hit the ground, leapt back and kicked the Duocon in one smooth motion. The 'con growled and drew his own weapon from subspace.

Galvatron rammed the Decepticon from the back, forcing the Duocon to stumble. Cyclonus rolled aside, leapt just three feet off the ground to transform and he shot up in a vertical lift. He made the tightest loop Galvatron had ever seen and transformed to robot mode, crashing feet-first into the Duocon's upper back.

The Duocon met dirt face-first and Optimus swiftly changed his weapon's setting and shot two conjunction points along the Duocon's back.

The two Decepticons fell asunder and sat upon their knees. Galvatron grabbed Capper, his face stern. "Who is your leader?"

"D'tron," Capper barely squeaked.

"WHO?"

"D-"

Tapps made a backward shoulder roll and produced a small pistol. He shot Capper in the back of the neck, aimed for Cyclonus, missed and shot again at Galvatron. Tapps scampered but did not get further than six steps before a powerful fist cracked the entire right side of his face. He tried to roll with the impact but, a forceful kick slammed him into the rock and a foot pinned him there, slowly crushing his chest. Finally looking at his attacker, Tapps met Optimus' optics and flared his own.

"Get your filthy foot off me, you half-baked waste extractor!" He oofed and bled fluids when Cyclonus punched him in the same wounded area.

"That is NOT how you speak to your superiors! Do NOT speak until spoken to."

His foot still holding the punk, Optimus now pointed his rifle dead center at Tapp's forehead. "Who's your commanding officer?"

"Who wants to know?" Tapps spat oil. But it did not get further than his chest plate.

Galvatron joined them, rubbing a grazed left shoulder. "This one's a feisty little lugnut. Who's your commanding officer?"

Tapps only glared at Optimus Prime and for a moment, the Autobot felt the pain in Tapps' face. Optimus struggled to control his damaged empathic shields. He did not feel sorry for the Decepticon aberration, but sensed the opponent's physical pain. More intensely, he felt the resentment and hate generating from the Duocon.

Galvatron leaned over, one arm resting just above the 'lugnut's' head. "I will not ask you a third time, Decepticon. Who is your leader?"

Tapps finally turned to Galvatron's direction, his face a demonic visage. "Decetron, leader of the Decepticons. Happy now? Do you want my ID number and meta-DNA, too?"

Optimus' optics darkened. "Mouthy, this one."

Galvatron turned to Prime, "That's it. This is the same group that attacked you on Mars."

"Then they're also affiliated with the Quintessons." Cyclonus recharged his rifle and double-checked the settings. "And with them, the Inoux." he added.

Galvatron propped his elbow against the rock and leaned head-to-hand slightly slumping. "How come you're never invited to the good parties, Optimus?"

Optimus' optics narrowed. "Cuz they don't like me." and with that, he blew Tapps' head clear off.

Galvatron and Cyclonus caught each other's surprised expressions. This clearly was the 'business side' of the Autobot leader rarely seen. Optimus was not in the mood to take prisoners.

Galvatron watched as the 'lugnut's' body slumped to the ground. Cyclonus put his weapon away and with a leap, he shifted forms and took off northward.

Optimus never saw it coming; the attacker phased out of nowhere, and bulleted straight into the Autobot's middle.

Galvatron turned too late. A nightmare on two legs bulldozed him then leapt away, giving Galvatron only enough time to get up on all fours. But the Decepticon never got enough time to retrieve his weapon before his attacker sacked him with a powerful tail.

Prime caught his opponent round the neck but it phased out with a snicker then reappeared behind and kicked him hard in the right side. Again, Optimus' reflexes were not as fast as his here-and-gone assailant.

There was the shadow, then a horrific kick to the knee joint.

Shadow.

Strike to the right temple.

Shadow.

Kick to the chin.

The blows were precise, well-controlled and the last blow threw Prime on his back. The Autobot lay still, gathering his senses. He stretched his scanners to their limits. Galvatron was not having much luck with his attacker either and bled badly from his right leg.

Shadow.

Then the image of Prime's attacker; a cocky grin plastered his face. "Bet you didn't see me, did you, Autobot? What the Pitt are you doing all the way out here? Did you know your pathetic leader just had his aft singed?"

"Is that so?" Prime growled.

The grey, white and orange Con shrugged then disappeared. He should not have spoken. He should not have appeared. Optimus felt the very ground about him. He took consensus of the air.

Wait.

Wait for it.

Sweet patience, come.

There, slowed a thousand times over. The air molecules betrayed the Decepticon's presence, betrayed his physical form, his body heat, his energy signature.

With unbelievable speed, Optimus lashed out, swept the Decepticon off his feet then punched him once in the face.

The second the attacker thunked to the ground, Prime spotted Galvatron's would-be assassin. The horrific sight of the thing shocked the rationality out of the Autobot leader and he froze.

The attacker resembled one of Rodimus' demented sculptures. Its great open jaw glistened with acid-laden teeth. A body not dissimilar to a biped dinosaur swept from its distorted head in a design found only in nightmares. It roared as it and Galvatron wrestled for ascendancy. The 'nightmare' extended arms and claws, slicing upon impact.

Galvatron elbowed its lower jaw to avoid deadly twenty-four inched teeth. The freak hissed, laughing, hoping to break Galvatron's concentration. But Galvatron kept all reactions under control. In spite of the terrible wound to his right leg, the former Decepticon leader fought as though he felt no pain.

The 'dinocon' swept one deadly claw at Galvatron's chest. Galvatron dodged; the moment of imbalance. The dinocon kicked his legs out and Galvatron landed hard on his back. He slammed his head atop a rock and winced as his sensors jumbled. That was the moment the first thunder slapped the air with a resounding crack, signaling an oncoming ion storm.

The terrible renting sound of thunder saved Galvatron's life. His freakish attacker hesitated, fiery red optics flared wide with fright.

Galvatron produced his weapon and blew a hole through the creature's overdeveloped nose and jaw. It tumbled off, landing in an awkward position next to Galvatron's arm.

Lightning flashed across the atmosphere and gave birth to a disc of energy. It sped past Optimus and slammed into the nearby hillside. Spidery electricity sizzled along the rock, leaving scorch marks on the sandstone. Seconds later, thunder cracked the air.

Cyclonus circumvented the battle field along the south-by-southwestern side. The great Virus he and his companions spotted from three miles no longer stood there.

How could a monster of such a size disappear-and why? Evidence of its existence punctured the ground or lay about in forms of several grey carcasses.

Cyclonus dropped cold as a missile steered for his starboard. It boomeranged, looping for his signature. Cyclonus dropped again, transformed, blew the missile with his gun, dove backwards and shifted back.

Just before Cyclonus pulled himself out of an inverted drop, a Decepticon flier challenged him by flying overhead close enough to singe paint.

At this point, Cyclonus was too close to the battle below to give chase. He dropped further, transformed to robot mode and hand-sprung his landing. Cyclonus found himself standing between a badly injured Kup and a Pretender without its shell. It sported oversized optics duo hooks for arms. _"Play,"_ it invited.

Before he answered, Cyclonus spotted movement reflecting off the pretender's glossy optic; Rodimus Prime. A robot of unfamiliar bearing encroached upon him wearing an unknown symbol.

Cyclonus kicked the Pretender away and with point-blank accuracy, shot Roddi's adversary. He missed his target: the optics. The Pretender jumped him.

Cyclonus heard the first indication of the storm. Anything he planned to do, he needed to do it immediately. The Pretender hovered over him and opened its maw for a bite. Cyclonus fed it four shots from his weapon then rolled aside. The same flier attacking him before returned, skimming the ground at too close a range. He sliced the heads off two of his own comrades before accelerating into the sky.

The stupid alien Decepticon jet returned for Cyclonus. Cyclonus jumped, grabbed the flier's wings and allowed the jet to drag him two, then three thousand feet above the battlefield.

"HEY!" the alien Decepticon objected, "No vertical mating allowed!!"

Cyclonus glared. "If you prefer Autobots, I'll be happy to make the arrangements." And he dropped off, nosedived and shifted. Cyclonus looped up, racing past his adversary, then looped over his head. Cyclonus dropped belly-up, waiting for the loud-mouth to follow.

'Loudmouth' did not comply. Cyclonus fired from behind. But to his annoyance, Loudmouth only dropped twenty feet shy of hitting two Duocons engaged in a fight with Sludge. Cyclonus fired again and this time, Loudmouth smoked a nice billowing cloud. Now the mouthy Decepticon had enough respect to recognize a challenge when he had one.

But it proved short-lived. Cyclonus dropped his nose and plunged in a screaming nose dive. In unbelievable grace, the Decepticon lieutenant pulled up just enough to tip up so that his wing hovered along the ground at a hair-splitting eighteen-inch razorplane. He flew, tipped between Blaster and two Pretenders, his wind knocking them aside. Loudmouth, however, did not have near the precise control or the grace-nor could he pull straight up from the ground at a three-foot clearance. Loudmouth crashed and showered several soldiers with his debris.

Chaotic unpredictability ravaged the battlefield throughout the afternoon and into the early evening. The Cratian stagnant air stank with smoldering, damaged bodies and the clouds above- already brown from a history of planetary holocaust-darkened to a sinister, somber red. They hung as if to rain upon the soiled battleground. But Repugnus, who was more aware of his surroundings than most, doubted the clouds were burdened with sweet clean water. In fact, the obnoxious Monsterbot half expected the filthy clouds to spit poisoned blood upon Decepticon and Autobot alike

Even he did not relish that idea.

The first din of thunder went largely unheard by the fighting masses. The battlefield floor that once boasted of hard rocky dirt clods now surged with metal shards and drowned under pools of poisonous Transformer life-fluids. The valley floor, once relatively even now groaned with the impact of body slams, the scars of laser weapons and disembowelment by rockets and bombs. Even the second crack of thunder Optimus and Galvatron heard came and dissolved, ignored by the greater part of both armies who considered the thunder just another deafening bomb. Even the first strikes of lightning discs remained unnoticed as they slammed into the southernmost areas of the battlefield.

It wasn't until Rodimus tumbled into the crevice with Decetron did anyone realize the battle began to shift; and not in favor of one side or the other. Particulon Lectrolyte caught the first sign-literally in the face. A white disc sliced his head in two. His fellow 'con nearby, Pretender Halogen, realized what was happening and sent communication within the troops; playtime was over.

Splinter, head of staff, would have none of it. Decetron did not call for a retreat. That was Splinter's final say before he turned to face the next Autobot opponent. He startled when his optics met Optimus Prime. The surprise caught him completely off guard, giving Prime all the advantage. Splinter's body fell, smoldering from point-blank laser fire as three globules of electricity rolled along the plane like miniature white-hot suns, tumbling along the ground. Robots dodged and ducked.

As the lightning descended upon the field, thunder blistered the evening air with the clang of a million screams. Lightning discs sawed their way along the ground and ignited the pools of mechanical fluids. Two robots shrieked as their bodies caught ablaze with super-heated plasma fire. Deadly smoke fogged the field, blinding most sensors. Thunder erupted so that it shook the ground and stoked the fires. Decepticons took off in haphazard disarray as they fled the battlefield. Many Autobots dropped their opponents, fleeing for life. The booming storm cracked rocks and ruptured Transformer body shells. Blow after blow in light and sound, the storm razed across the valley until the waxing daylight faded.

When the storm finally settled, the battlefield lay leveled; not smooth of surface but of anything standing.

Galvatron trembled and shuddered. His visual receptors took in only the barest of shapes through a field of static. His audios remained offline. He could not determine the extent of injury to his leg. He smelled smoke. Burning fuel, smoldering fluids and melting metal combined in a noxious, poisonous smog that hugged the ground. Galvatron hoped the wind, if any, steered the smog from the refugee camp.

He ordered himself up. _Get up._ He rose on trembling, weak arms. Galvatron managed to get his left leg under his weight so that he could stand but his strength did not last. He landed back in soft dirt as the first drop of rain plipped against his metal exterior. It was cool; it felt good. Unfortunately it dried as soon as it hit him. Galvatron groaned. It was not a fresh water rain, but saltwater.

What a crappy little planet.

**Pt 4: Battle on the Frostbite**

**EARTH DATE: 2042**

**PLACE: Desert of Skulls: Cratis**

The Frostbite's doors blew to atoms. Civilians scattered as the ship rattled. The scream of laser rifles echoed as the enemy pounded the Frostbite's exterior. The ship gently rocked, tossing people off their balance. Autobots and Humans grasped railings and support beams. They smacked the hard floor or clutched each other in terror. Spoilsport joined EDC officers as they powered weapons, drew deep breaths and prepared to die for the women and children.

"On the count of three," Spoilsport whispered. "One, two, three-ROLL!"

The four warriors launched into the ship's entryway, guns firing in short, controlled bursts while the attackers ripped into the Frostbite, tearing the bulkhead asunder. They blew the plank apart and ripped out lighting, shorting circuitry. The assailants boarded the vessel with heavy, graceless footing. Black smoke and bad lighting confused visuals. Laser weapons and unfamiliar voices peppered the moment with chaos.

Spoilsport tossed a flare into the entryway. It burst a near-blinding light and illuminated the shape and color of-oh Primus, whatever the thing was! It topped Magnus' height by two heads. a faceplate hid partial features and icky green optics scanned the entryway, sweeping side to side. It spoke an unknown dialect before sending a surge of energy into the emergency protective shielding at the right side. The surge sparked a bright plasma fire that waved straight up the ship's hull.

"What IS that thing?!" Captain Eastman changed the settings on his weapon. "It's huge! It'll take more than us puny Humans to knock that thing down!"

"Its size-coming up!" from atop the Frostbite, Targetmaster Pointblank swung down from the hatch frame and kicked the Decepticon in the back of its head. The Autobot rescuer landed and fired at two other 'Cons bashing the ship before engaging hand-to-hand with a third Decepticon sailing in from the air. Pointblank and Spoilsport ducked as an ally joined the fight: Bumblebee revved up in automode, shifted in mid-leap over their heads and took a 'con down. But then the Decepticon split in half. The upper portion formed a 'copter, the lower body reconfigured into a hovercraft. Spoilsport tried to shoot the 'copter, which had very little room to fly, but it was Captain Eastman who bagged the game. Unfortunately, when the 'copter took the hit, it smashed the flooring, blowing a hole into the metal plates.

"Bumblebee!" Pointblank called, "Get that-" He was ambushed mid-warning. The weight of his Decepticon attacker smothered Pointblank into the Frostbite's metal flooring. The Targetmaster lost hold of his partner/weapon Peacemaker and struggled for ground. The Decepticon bellowed and pounded into Pointblank's face. The assailant retracted his right hand and produced energo-knife with which he carved long slices into Pointblank's chest. Peacemaker shifted to robotic form and fired several shots into hydraulic lines to distract their opponent. The ship's hydraulics blew, searing the attacker's optic sensors. The alien Decepticon tumbled backward, kicking and screaming over his lost visuals. Peacemaker transformed back to weapon mode and floated above his partner. "You good there, PB?" he asked.

With his attacker distracted by pain, Pointblank managed to stand on shaking limbs. "Yeah, I'll live."

"Good." The second the Decepticon attempted to get to his feet, Peacemaker blew the monster's head off.

Down the left-hand corridor, EDC officers exchanged fire with two other Decepticon invaders. How the 'Cons managed past the ship's entryway was anyone's guess. Pointblank joined their fight and charged the 'con closest to the front line. He dodged a wide strike by his opponent and caught the Decepticon's head in the crook of his arm.

"No good, Autobot!" the invader hissed and struggled, "All you can do is lie down and die!"

Peacemaker's incident with the hydraulics flooded the floor with slick lubricants, negating any form of traction. Pointblank released the Decepticon. The attacker jumped and caught his hands on the upper buttress grippers. Pointblank rammed his head into the con's middle, breaking the grip. He hauled the Decepticon up and tossed him off the ship.

But the Decepticon wasn't finished. He pointed his dark red arm toward Pointblank and caught the Targetmaster with hook-and-line, dragging the Autobot outside to join him in a free-fall wrestling match. Once he had the Autobot pinned to the ground, the Decepticon raised his hand and split it open, revealing an energo-axe. Pointblank's opponent grinned ugly just half a second.

KA-THA-BAAM!!

Pause.

The Decepticon fell over, fried by electro-static shot. Pointblank sat up and stared at his partner with gratitude. Peacemaker transformed and landed next to their fallen foe. "What the hell are you waiting for?" He dashed back into the ship. Pointblank followed and found their assistance in the fight was not necessary. Bumblebee and Spoilsport dragged their opponent's bodies toward the Frostbite's entrance.

Three down.

The ground boomed and vibrated following a huge shockwave. All the Autobot shuttles slightly swayed and the Frostbite creaked softly on her moors.

"What was THAT?" Bumblebee hugged the hatch post as the ship stabilized. His optics swept the area for impending trouble.

"Don't know." Pointblank pushed himself from the damaged bulkhead. "Help me get the Frostbite's shields back online."

"Is that even possible?" Bumblebee stepped over the gap in the floor made by the Duocon helicopter. Spoilsport moved ahead of Pointblank and Bumblebee. He pried open hidden hatchways along the bulkheads and flooring to check on civilians safely hidden therein.

Shawndra clutched the youngest boy tightly as he started crying. "What-or who-were they?"

"Duocons," Bumblebee answered from a damaged control panel. "And you can bet there'll be more of them."

Shawndria rocked back and forth patting the baby's back, trying to comfort the child although she silently wept herself. A few other people emerged, most with children in their arms.

"Anyone seen Arcana or Duros?" Peacemaker called. He helped three women and half a dozen children out of a cramped space.

One civilian pointed toward the left corridor, "I saw Arcana headed that direction last-but that was before the attack."

Spoilsport managed to rip off a partly-melted panel on a control board and flinched when hot wires snapped in the cooler air. "I think he went looking for Witwicky's girl-ouch!"

Bumblebee tugged at damaged panel flooring where another hatch held other survivors. He fell to his knees. "Ohh . . . Primus." His breath heaved and he bowed over.

Concerned, Pointblank joined him and upon seeing Bumblebee's findings, bowed his head at the tragic sight. Three women, a man and two children lay dead, their bodies burned by acid, their skin charred by heat of laser weapons. Peacemaker took a tattered blanket from one of the dead women in the hatch and covered the children's faces.

"Uhm . . . well . . . let's . . . let's lay them aside for right now. Take care of the others first."

Distant thunder echoed angrily across the plane. Everyone in the shuttle froze. They knew that sound; the first gong of Cratis' hellish ion storms.

Bumblebee turned to Pointblank. "Hurry. It's coming."

* * *

Rusti expected a mammoth Decepticon to stomp the hatchway and blast everything in sight. Instead, two little Decepticons and a mechanical bird materialized from the smoke.

Rusti recognized only one.

"Merc, Laserbeak! Hey, check this out!" Rumble leered at Arcana. "We got us'selves a couple of meatheads! Come 'ere, you two. I wanna pop 'yer squishy brains like zits on a borgobor!"

Merc, a Decepticon with an alien animal transform, stepped in behind his pal. A blood-red visor scanned the room, spotting Duros, Arcanna and the girl. He gave Rusti a quizzical look. Her armor was different from the Headmasters and confused Merc. He craned his neck. "How come they got fleshies here, Rums? Eh? How come?"

"Cuz they're Autobots, you oafless brain. An' the little wench is mine!" Rumble leapt, landing between Rusti and Arcana. He whipped about and knocked the Humanoid Headmaster a good six yards. Rusti ducked when the mech's hand came back to slap her too. She scampered away, madly dashing for the door as her heart pounded in her chest.

"Hey! I didn't say you could leave!" Rumble aimed for the wall, ran up the sloping buttress and catapulted into the air. He landed with a mean smile, blocking her escape.

Rusti ducked Rumble's second attempt to slap her. The alien in her hands whimpered.

"Hold STILL, you freaking' broad!"

Arcana fired his weapon at Rumble but missed Rumble hit metal plating but kept his target in view. Rusti glanced back at the Headmaster doctor.

"Go!" he shouted, "Run!" She hesitated. There was no place safe enough. The Decepticons compromised the Frostbite's shields and down the hall, Rusti heard the whine and boom of laser fire, the clang of metal against metal and victims' death screams.

Rumble scampered like a cat, taking aim for the girl when Duros intervened. The Headmaster Interface lunged the Decepticon and whacked him hard with an energy blade smashing in the left side of Rumble's face. The Decepticon staggered back until he lost his balance and fell. He shrieked, enraged, and pounded the floor with feet and arms like child in a tantrum.

Duros waited for another attack. He flipped his weapon once, twice, indicating he was ready for a round two. He mistakenly glanced in Rusti's direction and did not see the wrathful Decepticon scramble to his feet. Rumble flew at Duros and punched the Headmaster senseless. Duros slammed into the bulkhead, fully unconscious. One down. Rumble immediately turned to shoot Arcana but missed

Arcana would have retaliated, but Merc distracted him for a third round. Meanwhile, Laserbeak circled above and took cheap shots at the Headmaster doctor as he and Rumble wrestled and wrangled along the floor.

Rumble leered at Rusti. His broken lip components twitched at the left side. A slender appendage connecting his left audio to the cranial chamber blew out, leaking a thick, steamy sickly-yellow goo. The rest of his damaged face disintegrated, eaten away by Duros' energy weapon. His visage that once reflected a mean-spirited, contemptible attitude now decomposed into a mechanical monstrosity.

"Alright, squishy," Rumble snarled, "time for round two." He charged for Rusti. She swiftly set the alien 'baby' on the floor and greeted the freakish punk with a lucky, well-placed leap-kick.

Rumble flipped backward and landed chest-down. With a battle cry, he lunged up from the ground with all his might, moving so fast, Rusti almost did not have time to dodge. She squeaked, hugging the nearest buttress. Rumble crashed into the wall, but bounced off again and swiped the air, attempting to grab her. She dropped hard and rolled.

Not the best of tactics. Now she was on the ground and open for attack. Rumble drew his weapon and trained it at different parts of her body. "Ooh, squishy on a hotplate. I heard 'dis recipe's good. Lemme see: between the ears, between the boobs or between the legs?"

Arcana dodged a shot from Laserbeak then back-flipped to avoid a swing from Merc's laser bayonet. The doctor snapped out a pair of armor-piercing throwing stars from subspace. One missed and sunk into the Frostbite's bulkhead, the other made a nice slice into Merc's right shoulder. Lazerbeak fired again, cawing, and grappled Arcana's helm. The Headmaster grabbed the vulture's feet and the damn thing pecked a nice hole through Arcana's right shoulder. The armor held, but barely.

Laserbeak lifted him toward the ship's ceiling while Merc entertained a few really bad shots-except the last one which grazed Arcana's left thigh.

Laserbeak tried to drop Arcana as it squawked and squealed at an ear-blowing pitch. Arcana considered an attempt at climbing on top of the damned cassette bird, but decided against it when Laserbeak descended toward Merc to give him a clearer shot at their opponent. Arcana waited until the bird was just fifteen feet from the ground and he dropped with a roll. Laserbeak rounded back, firing time after time, forcing Arcana to roll along the floor like a humanoid barrel.

A high-pitched whistle sounded above Laserbeak's screeches. The vulture and Merc turned simultaneously, meeting Duros' aim. The Headmaster now swayed, slightly woozy, but at least he could rejoin the fight. Merc dodged first, then the bird, giving Arcana enough time to spring back to his feet. Duros made target practice of the bird while Arcana chased Merc with his gun. At the last, the doctor tackled the Decepticon, slammed Merc's head against the floor then kicked him out the 'makeshift door' in the ship's hull.

Undeterred, Merc shifted to animal form and darted back for the Frostbite.

Duros cracked open a panel in the wall next to the tear in the hull. He yanked out wiring and pried apart internal components hidden inside the walls of all Transformers ships. He found the control panel and worked as quickly as he could while the Decepticon raced ever nearer. Then at the last, Duros punched a special control center, allowing the ship to shift its wall structure. At first the transformation caught half the Decepticon's body inside the ship, the other half outside. The gears whirred hard, pressing tighter and tighter, squeezing Merc's writhing form. He screamed until his front half sparked, spurted and dropped to the floor like a dead fish.

Laserbeak swung back for another go-around and hit Duros in the right hip just as Merc's upper body smacked the floor. Duros hissed four-letter words and tried to shoot the bird with his left hand. He missed three times before his armor warned of diminishing power.

Arcana took his turn targeting the vulture. He missed, too as the skilled flier swept down, ascended, circled and dive-bombed, mocking their efforts. Tired of the little game of tag, Laserbeak sailed down the corridor toward Rumble. Arcana chased after, stopping now, a few feet later and once again to get a good aim at the flying menace. Laserbeak cawed, jeering Arcana's vain attempt at a kill.

Just a bit further down the corridor, Arcana spotted Rumble, his weapon trained on Rusti. Arcana ditched the idea of a 'robotoid turkey shoot' and aimed for Rumble. Even if he was too far for his shot to make a difference, Arcana fired at the Decepticon, distracting him enough to let the girl escape. Annoyed at the near misses from poor aim, Rumble snarled in Arcana's direction and Rusti kicked up, sending Rumble's gun flying through the air. She rolled to her feet and dashed to the darker end of the corridor. In spite of Arcana's verbal threats and weak shots, Rumble chased her down like a desperate carnivore. He propelled his metal body over her head, landed deftly and slapped her so hard Rusti hit the bulkhead. Were it not for her exosuit, Rusti would have suffered a far worse head injury than the ugly cut across her right brow.

"Now, this is more like it!" Rumble gloated, gun in hand, "just me and a fleshy."

Laserbeak circled overhead. Piercing screeches called for bloodshed. Arcana shot at the vulture, this time catching a wing on fire. Then the doctor turned and shot at Rumble, slicing into the Decepticon's right shoulder. Laserbeak dove for Arcana, claws extended, ready to shred and render. Rumble also charged, determined to eliminate further interference. In fact, Rumble got to Arcana first so that Laserbeak could only hover above, wings aloft, thrusters on standby. Rumble delivered a right cross followed by an uppercut. Arcana answered the uppercut with a knee to Rumble's middle. He tried to swipe the 'con off his feet but Rumble's balance was too well established. Arcana elbowed the wounded face and used his armor's precious energy to fire a blinding pinpoint laser into Rumble's optic sensors. Bored with someone else's fight, Laserbeak took his turn, digging his claws into Arcana's shoulders. Rumble took advantage of that to punch Arcana in the bowels until something hit him from behind. He turned and found Rusti standing behind him, blood streaming down her face and blotching her armor. Laserbeak dropped Arcana and soared toward the girl. But Rumble wasn't about to allow the bird more than one kill.

He leapt between the vulture and the girl. "No way, you substandard aluminum egg-layer! This is MY kill! Back off!"

Rusti stole the moment. She tucked the alien under her right arm and bolted.

"Hey! GET BACK HERE!"

The sudden and horrific impact of Rumble's metal foot against all the ribs on her left side made a sickening crunch. Rusti crumbled beside the wall. Pain shot straight to the pit of her stomach. She could not breathe. Her eyes stared into nothing. Her arms went lax, she lost the baby alien. The shock of the moment allowed her enough mental capacity to realize Rumble was going to pick her apart. She had nothing but the exosuit.

Rumble savagely removed her helmet and hauled Rusti up by her hair. His gruesome, distorted face sickened her. "Now where was we? Oh, yeah! I was gonna pop yer head like ripe zit!"

Tears wrought by pain and frustration soaked her face. Rusti finally came up with one option: she planted her hand on the Decepticon's chest and through the suit, exerted an electrical charge. The surge snapped more cables, tubes and components about his head. The shock obstructed the redirected power conduits in his chassis. Rumble screamed, echoed by the damn vulture

RAAAAGGHHHH!!! RAAAGGGHHH!!

The second Rumble released her Rusti pointed a finger at Laserbeak and shot a powerful burst through its optics. Laserbeak's brain casing blew. His head shattered, spewing metal and fluids. The rest of his body smashed into a buttress corner and gushed a dense cloud of smoke.

With squalling anger, Rumble shot back up and a sharp, hot dagger pierced Rusti just above her left breast. Screaming, she dropped to the floor like a rag doll. Her skin, muscles and insides burned, disabling her from further action. Rumble towered over her crumpled form, much like her father; leering and contemptible.

"I was gonna be nice," static garbled, clogged and vibrated Rumble's voice with drowned tempos. "Now I'm gonna just splatter you like so much mud and crap under my feet. Yer gonna be my human doormat!"

Rusti could not object. She lost track of the alien baby. She could not protect it. She could not save herself.

KRAK!

Rumble tumbled away, head, legs and arms locked in Dr. Arcana's body spear. They wrestled and Arcana slammed the punk against one bulkhead. Rumble levered himself and shoved the Headmaster against an adjoining buttress and tried to punch him.

"Rusti," Arcana called as he tried to hold the Decepticon back, "Run!"

But she could only lie there helpless. Blood flowed down her neck. It saturated her under the exosuit. Pain choked her breath and tears drenched her face. Her veins boiled and sweat soaked her underclothes.

Rumble threw Arcana against a ribbed buttress but rather than fall to the floor, Arcana remained steadfast kicking Rumble in the face as hard as he could.

Rumble's face snapped another circuit, this time blowing the left optic. The mean little Decepticon staggered drunkenly. Rumble was half blind and bullheaded enough to ignore a damaged telemeter. "Don't think I can't kill you, stupid . . . protoplasmic waste receptacle! I'll shove . . . shove it up . . ."

Rumble stumbled again, unable to keep his balance. It was just enough to give Arcana the only shot he needed.

The Decepticon's blown and amputated head rotated on the floor like a lopsided top winding down from the spin. The freakish sight was too much for Rusti and she wept in spite of her agony.

"Come on, Miss Rusti," Arcana said kindly. "Let's get you back with the others."

"I . . . I . . ." breathing in hurt. Breathing out was worse. She looked away as the Headmaster doctor knelt before her and carefully examined her wounds.

"Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. Alright. Let's um-" he glanced left to right and frowned at the mangled Decepticon corpse. "Stay here." He disappeared down the hall.

Rusti kept her breathing light and shallow, daring not to move. She feared for her little alien friend, though she felt nothing; neither the alien in her arms, nor her own extremities.

Arcana returned and Rusti prayed he would not make her stand. He hunched and touched her blood-soaked hair. "Miss Rusti," he said softly, "can you lie straight for me? Just try to slowly straighten your arms and legs."

The attempt was the wrong thing to do and it was the last thing she remembered.

**Pt. 5: Resuscitation**

The Valley of Skulls lay desolate; devoid of sound or movement. Neither insects nor animals crawled along the contaminated, filthy, blood drenched ground. No birds hovered along the sky, welcoming early morning light. Saltwater rain sprinkled the valley, adding misery to suffering. While the water doused many fires, it did nothing to relieve the heat or the stench accompanying the low-lying smog. Even morning luminescence failed to improve conditions on the battlefield; it only revealed the extent of damage and number of wounded and casualties.

Optimus lay quietly where he fell next to the deformed remains of a beast Pretender. The Pretender shell aimed an acid bath at Prime. But it missed the Autobot leader and disintegrated its own robotic Core personality. When the storm hit, the acid attracted a sphere of electricity, completing the Pretender's destruction. Nothing remained of the shell now; only the skeleton of the robotic beast itself.

Encouraged by the morning light, Optimus propped himself on his arms and surveyed the lifeless battlefield. Neither he nor Galvatron made it far into the battle lines. The Autobot leader hoped to crash Decetron's personal party. Some plans just never work at all, he mused.

"F'get it." Galvatron groaned nearby. "I already tried to see. Nothing but a mess out there. Just call the fragging janitorial service."

Optimus did not reply at first. Galvatron was right; most sensors were offline; useless. He heard Galvatron only through interpersonal comlines. "How's your leg?"

"Needs an oil change."

Prime did not answer the joke. He struggled to see through static. How many survived? How many wounded? How many would they have to bury?

Optimus shifted visual light spectrum focus to see anything through the poisonous smog and smoldering plasma fires. Finally the night vision kicked in. It gave him no color detail. But at least he now saw shapes and forms. He forced himself on his knees and shuddered from energy overload. The lightning that fried the Pretender gave Prime a bit of an electric short. Automatic repair systems and rerouting procedures kicked in. He'd be stiff and sore for a while, but that was nothing compared to what the storm did to his attacker.

Galvatron groaned. "I suppose we should get out of bed, find something to do."

Prime managed to his feet first. Morning burned off more shadows; shapes became bodies. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"No you won't." Galvatron argued. "You'll find yourself some nice young girl, settle down and forget about your pal."

Optimus took two steps then he realized why his companion was cracking such bad jokes. "Are you in pain, Galvatron?"

"I thrive on the stuff and if you'll help me up, I promise to stop making smart remarks."

The Autobot leader obliged his friend and allowed Galvatron to lean on him long enough to attain balance. He said nothing and did not move. Galvatron shuddered, not from cold, but from system overrides reroutes and re-acclimatization procedures. In four minutes, the Decepticon was able to clear his sensory inputs and walk. But he was in no condition to fight for another few hours.

Optimus marveled at the technology that constructed Cyclonus' and Galvatron's bodies. They were tough, adaptable and more capable of self-repair than anything made from Cybertron.

He realized Galvatron ruefully smiled at him and the Autobot leader dropped his optics. "It will take hours to days to sift through this."

Galvatron laid a kind hand on Prime's shoulder and patted him encouragingly. He took the first several, rain-drenched steps across the charred and ruined land.

Optimus followed him, carefully inspecting bodies and scanning for pressure-triggered weapons. Most of the fires relaxed into smoldering mounds. There was one area, however, where the carcass of some great Decepticon melted under the colorful light of plasma fire. Optimus decided to let it burn. It was not spreading and he had other matters of greater importance.

Convoy was the first living thing, though critically damaged, Optimus and Galvatron found. She lay half buried under two Decepticon chassis. The 'cons were fried, the greater part of their bodies naught but lumps of metal. It took some doing, but they managed to pry the bodies off the Fort Horizon city commander. Optimus checked her carefully. She was not so badly damaged that she could not be transported. But neither he nor Galvatron had a medical transport. And upon scanning the disastrous area, Optimus decided it was too treacherous to drive her across the plane.

Prime switched communication frequencies: "This is Optimus Prime. If there are any able-bodied Autobots, please respond on the ten-Q frequency only. Do NOT answer on any other communication frequency."

"Optimus Prime?" That was Trinket's voice.

In twenty minutes, six Autobots gathered onto the field. None of them were unaffected by the battle, but they were far better off than their fellows. Optimus counted his blessings as First Aid, Trinket and Perceptor approached the debris field.

Trinket raced ahead and attended Convoy. First Aid contacted his assistants while Perceptor scanned the field. He pointed to three approaching Autobots before spotting another injured some yards away.

Optimus sent First Aid and Perceptor back to camp to prepare spaces for incoming wounded. He assigned Pointblank and Sideswipe to search and rescue.

Then Bumblebee found his way to the field.

Optimus had to take a second look.

He had to take a third look, staring as though trying to get his optics to change the figure's shape and size.

Sideswipe smiled in spite of his exhaustion and pain. "We all had to do that, too."

"That can't be-"

"Yeah, it is."

Bumblebee stood between Sideswipe and Spoilsport, projecting a grin of uncertainty. "Uh, hi, Optimus. You got something for me to do?" The little Autobot found himself swept off the filthy ground into a tight embrace and for a moment, The Bee thought his body would look like a crushed soda can. Prime released him, but remained on his knees before the Bug.

"How?"

Bumblebee took great delight in seeing Optimus Prime's whole countenance lit with the moment. "Ah ... I guess I sorta fell into it." he shrugged when Sideswipe softly moaned over the bad pun.

"It _is_ you, isn't it, Bumblebee?" Optimus felt silly asking, but he could not help himself.

Titanium called over the comline: "Optimus? We've located . . . we found Grimlock."

Neither Optimus nor Galvatron doubted that Grimlock and the brute he fought made the colossal fissure in the ground. Nonetheless, they were amazed at the canyon's size and depth.

Prime waited at the top with Galvatron while Swoop, Pointblank and Sideswipe descended to the bottom. They organized a lift but found Grimlock's physical state in greater need than what a simple lift offered. Prime's optics drifted toward the eastern side of the crevice. Roddi was somewhere in that direction.

Prime wanted to leave to investigate but he needed to see the extent of Grimlock's injuries.

The heart-wrenching sight silenced everyone. They watched with sad faces as Grimlock's broken form emerged from the darkened crevice. The chains tugged and jerked as they lifted the oversized flat on which he lay. He bled; every precious drop a reminder of the terrible and costly battle.

Sludge, Swoop and Slag faced the moment as bravely as they could. But Swoop's childlike personality demonstrated how they all felt. He sank to his knees, heaving mournful sighs. The Pteranadon finally hid his face in his hands and whimpered.

Trinket connected the Dinobot leader to portable life support while Titanium secured the stretcher onto a make-shift, super-sized antigrav flat. Trinket stepped back, standing beside Prime as they watched Titanium's careful attention.

"He's . . ." she glanced at the Dinobots and lowered her voice. "He's not good, Optimus. We don't even have the facility to properly repair him. We may have to keep him in stasis."

Optimus turned partly to her. "Do whatever you think is necessary to save his life, Trinket." he looked to the dejected Dinobots. "For their sake."

As the Dinobots followed Titanium back to camp, Physix and Dogfight lowered into the crevice to search for Rodimus Prime. Optimus joined them and traveled along the crevice's uneven flooring, using only night vision. Almost as if he knew exactly where to go, Optimus bee-lined for the easternmost part of the crevice. He and Physix scrambled over boulder and craggy hill. They squeezed between jagged walls and pushed through stone-blocked pathways.

A commotion of voices erupted; shouting from the lip above. Optimus knew it was a fight over his Decepticon companions and a fight was inevitable. But troop discipline would have to wait. Rodimus needed him now.

Physix shadowed Prime just a few feet and called in for assistance the moment Optimus found Roddi half buried under rocks, dirt and debris.

Rodimus lay face down, his systems almost entirely offline. Optimus could not decide if he should dig Rodimus out or wait. He touched Roddi's cold form, just brushed the shoulder line then traced the side of his friend's helm. Tell-tale signs of hell etched Roddi's face in deep scratches.

Optimus brushed gravel and large rocks from Rodimus' right hand. _"He is badly injured,"_ he inadvertently said to Galvatron over internal comlines.

"_You have more problems than a seriously injured co-worker, Prime."_

Optimus tore his attention from Rodimus to Physix.

The Autobot wrecker from Ft. Sagittarius read Optimus' expression as fearful impatience. "What's keeping that lift?!" the wrecker croaked over the comline. He turned to Prime. "I'm sorry, sir."

Optimus turned to their other operator: "Dogfight, get a stretcher down here." He patched into the comline, hoping to contact Trinket.

First Aid tried to answer Prime's call, but his replies drowned under the shouting bouts between several Autobots. Optimus overheard Strike Back, Sideswipe and Blaster then two of them broke out in a wrestling match.

"Strike Back!" Prime snarled through the comlines. "What the HELL is going on up there!?"

"You tell ME!" Strike Back answered in like tones. "Who invited the Decepticons?"

"That is NOT your concern. Get First Aid down here with a lift for Rodimus Prime, mister or you'll be dealing with more than a few words from me!"

The fighting and arguing stopped and First Aid descended with Dogfight.

"Careful," Optimus warned quietly. "I don't know the extent of his injuries." He, Aid and Physix gently dug Roddi out of his premature grave. They slid the top portion of the stretcher under Rodimus' lifeless body then gently laid him on the lift. First Aid tucked a protective dark sheet over Rodimus. He heaved a great sigh.

"It's starting to rain again, Prime."

Optimus stared sternly at the medic. "First Aid, I need my senior staff up and operation as soon as possible."

The Protectobot nodded. "I read you. But we're low on hands and supplies."

"I brought supplies. Physix, you and Dogfight are in charge of assisting First Aid; even if it means bodyguard protection. He's your boss, now."

"Yes, sir."

The snapping of a new argument started up and Optimus dimmed his optics in dire displeasure.

Prime searched for Galvatron the second he climbed out the crevice. In pouring saltwater rain, on a battlefield crowded with Autobots in need of help, Blaster, Strike Back, Colt, Sideswipe, Delta and Bumblebee all stood around Galvatron, arguing. The Decepticon sat calmly in the middle, examining a piece of Decepticon body part. Blaster and Strike Back bickered as the rain increased, washing more pain into wounds and irritating short fuses. The other four stood nearby, ready to add their opinion to the heating argument.

Prime crossed his arms and bore holes into each of his officers except Bumblebee. Salty rain seeped into sensitive and damaged areas along Prime's body. It burned and sizzled his exostructure, worsening his mood. Strike Back and Blaster returned Prime's annoyed expression while Sideswipe only looked annoyed-confused. Delta glared ugly. Galvatron pretended nothing was happening.

"What is going on?" Optimus growled.

"Him!" Strike Back and Blaster answered simultaneously. Strike Back pointed to Galvatron. Blaster pointed to Cyclonus who sat behind Colt and Bumblebee, hands bound behind his back.

"We demand an explanation." Strike Back spat. "We hear nothing from you. No communications, no word of your whereabouts or condition. Then all of a sudden, here you are, taking over, acting like you've been here all along-and you bring the enemy!"

"I owe you nothing, Strike Back." Prime's voice dipped dangerously. Even Galvatron took notice. "They're with me. That's all you need to know. Blaster, I want status reports from all ships. Bumblebee, I need recon from the eastern side. Strike Back, I need supplies and personnel reports. Colt: status on staff, weapons and medical. Sideswipe, search and rescue, south."

"WAIT A MINUTE!" Strike Back shouted. "You're telling us what to do when you have no information on what's been going on??"

"You are _assigned_ to _get_ me information, Strike Back."

"No! This is preposterous! How do we know we can even _trust_ you? Here you've hopping planet to planet with criminals and you expect us to just snap-to? That pretty much makes you a traitor in my data tablet, _pal_!"

Optimus's optics narrowed even darker. He was aware Galvatron stared at him expectantly. "Blaster?"

"Uh . . . sir?"

"Are you in concurrence with Strike Back?"

Blaster glanced from Strike Back to Optimus and back. At first he could not make his mind but then he realized that he honestly knew better. "Well, uh, Galvatron has cruised the block with us before. And if it weren't for him, we'd all be red and dead by the Hate Plague. It's just not . . . I guess not."

Strike Back glared hotly at Blaster. "Whose side are you on?" But Blaster neither answered him nor look him in the optic.

Optimus Prime's extended and unusual silence made the other Autobots nervous. Galvatron watched the drama, withholding judgment. Among Decepticons, such accusations were not tolerated; insubordination was controlled by elimination. If Prime tolerated such blatant behavior, casually dismissing it as just a tantrum, then he deserved the poor respect he received right this moment.

But Optimus was only cooling off. His optics lit back and he glanced from Sideswipe to Strike Back. "Strike Back, you are under arrest for insubordination. You will go with Sideswipe to the Alvarez where you will be confined until further notice."

"WHAT?!"

Galvatron took that as a cue to stand while Bumblebee unlocked Cyclonus' cuffs. Optimus stared at Sideswipe until the Autobot warrior got the hint and quietly suggested to Strike Back that he do as told. After another moment's hesitation, Strike Back complied, but his expression was not a forgiving one. Optimus did not return the backward glance shot his way. His optics narrowed again and Bumblebee departed, knowing it was time to get to work.

Galvatron waited until Blaster and Colt faded from the group before surveying the debris field. "What would you like us to do, Prime?"

"I cannot ask you to do anything."

"We're not your guests. You need whomever can stand and move on their own. You also have next to no one who can survey the area from the sky. Clearly you need us. Now what do you need?"

By early afternoon, all of forty-six hands were available to Optimus. He hated working with skeleton crews; it meant the next seventy-six point seventeen hours no one would be able to rest.

Of twenty Autobot ships, one, the Speedster, was the most heavily damaged. Optimus counted that as either blind luck or a huge blessing. It could have been far, far worse.

Prime examined the Speedster with Searchlight and Pong while trinket sent him operations reports ship-by-ship.

Cyclonus sent an all-clear along the fifty-mile radius before descending to assist search and rescue.

Pong's head peeked up from the Speedster's lower engine room-or what was left of it. "All la breaking systems yet togedder. Save 'em all?"

"Yes," Optimus answered over Trinket's chatter. He tuned in to the Autobot mechanic while fishing for a micron wrench. "Trinket, which ship did you say the comms were down?"

"The Confiscator, currently assigned strictly to weapons repair." she paused. "The stupid ion storms keep wrecking havoc-"

"Which direction do the storms come?"

"South. Sometimes southwest, Optimus."

Prime unbolted a half-melted panel along the Speedster's port wing and disengaged an allocation tracking device. "I want a parameter-wide force field set up along that direction. We'll never get off this rock . . . " he sliced out two navigational corrections boards: ". . . if we can't keep the ships from damage."

"Aye, Sir. But . . . that will take a while-"

"Just get started on it, Trinket."

"Aye, Sir."

Redial approached, digipad in hand. "Sir, I have reports from the Alvarez-what's that for?" the communications officer from Fort Zenith stared at the Speedster's allocation tracking device.

"The Alvarez?" Prime asked in turn. "That's not one of our ships."

"Oh, uh, we were given three new ships while we were on -uh-in uh, Centaurus . . . sir." Redial stammered since he could not recall the exact name of the planet. "The Alvarez, the Cold Refractor and the Thermosphere were gifts. But um, we lost the Thermosphere."

Prime nodded to himself at that remark. Gain three, lose one; story of his life.

Redial returned to his report: "Oh, um, there's three damaged stasis chambers, starboard engine offline and damage along rudimentary ignition systems-oh, ummm . . . might not be worth mentioning, but it's been infected with some sort of robotic version of ah . . . lice or mosquitos or something."

"What?"

"Yeah. We don't know what they are, but fifty Autobots are infected. Nasty things."

Optimus put that detail in the back of his head. Pest control would have to wait. "What is the fuel load on the Alvarez, Redial?"

"Uhhh . . ." Redial scanned the pad, "says ninety-two percent." he handed the digipad and watched his commander scroll up and down the report until movement behind Prime caused the communications officer to gasp.

Prime turned as Searchlight tugged at Autobot Mirror's nonfunctional form. Without a word, Optimus leapt over refuse and debris and ripped away a fallen bulkhead so Searchlight could drag the femme away. Optimus helped lay her dark, charred form alongside those parts salvaged off the destroyed vessel.

"I know there were others." Searchlight choked up. "Comp, Echo, Compact, Gamut, Sparkus and Graphite . . . but they're not here. I haven't seen Graphite since we left-"

"Searchlight," Optimus said quietly, "where is the morgue?"

"Couldn't go there," the little Autobot quivered. "The Spiral Star . . . you know . . . "

Prime was about to call Doublecross to assist Searchlight in removing Mirror's body when Pong called his attention.

"Apology, Sr. Clockwise, methinks . . ."

Searchlight shuddered. "Just two? A cruiser with two hundred and thirty Autobots and organics we can only find TWO people?!"

"Redial."

"Sir?"

"Assist Searchlight and Pong. Take Mirror and Clockwise to the Spiral Star."

"But Optimus, I'm not a-" Redial swallowed the rest of his words at Prime's sharp stare. "Yes, sir."

He watched them prepare a makeshift stretcher while Galvatron stepped up, a digipad in hand, a scowl on his expression. "Parameter is still clean. More wreckage a hundred and fifty miles at the south end."

"You were studying that Decepticon chassis rather intently this morning, Galvatron."

The Decepticon waited until Searchlight and Pong were out of audio-range. "That's why I wanted to take parameter expedition, Prime. I needed to be certain."

"Of what?"

"The alloy. I've checked every wrecked body out there and not one of them has ever set foot on Cybertron."

Optimus stared, befuddled. "But?"

"But they're still Decepticon."

"How's that . . . how's that possible? The Paratrons here haven't been on Cybertron for millions of years, but they still read Cybertronian."

"Yes, but their ancestors were still Autobots. These things utilize Decepticon life force frequencies, but their physic reads non-Cybertronian, a completely different system of alloys and integration techniques between subspace nanite technology and fuel systems."

Optimus reached for a conclusion: "Decepticon, but not _Cybertronian_ Decepticon?"

"Exactly."

First Aid's voice came frantically over the com: "what am I supposed to do with these people? I'm trying to save Rodimus, Magnus and Grimlock and now I have to be funeral director, too?"

Optimus realized his absence from the Autobots was more a vacation; a much needed, long over-due vacation. With a quick word to the frantic Autobot medic, Prime shifted and sped across camp.

Medbay bustled in chaos. Some Autobots sat or stood about, attempting self repairs. Children cried. Adults complained and demanded while First Aid argued with Searchlight.

Prime came directly between them and looked Searchlight in the optic. "What are you doing?"

"We need a place-"

"Not among the living, Searchlight." Op read distress in the Autobot scout's optics. It was so obvious that the dead did not belong in medbay. But Paratrons thought only in terms of the person. Prime followed Searchlight and Pong to an area bordered by large rocks. Several small mounds already lay at the far corner with makeshift crosses at the front. A ragged, naked doll lay atop one mound, reminding Optimus of his occasional visits to a graveyard that no longer existed.

Searchlight and Pong lay Mirror's chassis to one side then looked to their somber leader. "Uhhh . . . Optimus Prime . . . shouldn't we have a funeral?"

Prime shook his head and at first their faces reflected horror and confusion, then anger. Searchlight stood, optics flaring.

"She deserves one! They all deserve to be treated with respect and dignity! We can't just dump them-"

"Searchlight," Optimus intervened, "there is nothing you can do for them and even if the dead could speak, do you really think they'd want you to spend valuable time mourning their absence rather than repairing the ships and leaving Cratis?"

Searchlight stared at Mirror's burnt form. He grievously shook his head.

"There are children at the Racing Beast who need someone to take care of them so their guardians can assist in other areas. Maybe you'd not mind . . . putting band aids on their cuts and scratches and get their minds off the battle."

Searchlight stared at Mirror's corpse one last time then nodded. "Yeah. I can do that." He left Mirror where she lay, transformed and coasted through crowds, between ships.

"Pong," Prime called. "We have a force filed to put up."

Just as he said it, Prime watched as Peacemaker and Delta arrived carrying Spectrum between them. Worse still came Blaster. Rewind lay limp and grey between his hands.

Unable to take in the images of the dead, Pong transformed to cycle mode and shot away. Knowing Blaster as he did, Prime said nothing and did not look the communications officer in the optics. He laid a hand on Blaster's shoulder in passing, knowing any words at all could set Blaster into a rage

Afternoon sank into early evening. Prime assigned Blaster, Pong and Imp to servellance so Bumblebee and Cyclonus could assist prepping the south-section ships for the force field.

There was one problem: . . .no, there were several problems: one or two for each ship.

The Mozart refused to link with the other ships.

The Armored Crest had seventeen all-trans boards fried beyond recognition.

The Hannibal's Mark took a great deal of damage during the battle. And of course, the Frostbite's extensive damage required patchwork materials that could be graciously provided by the Speedster.

Trinket cussed modestly over the comlines until Prime was able to come to her assistance. They pulled apart the navigation controls and checked each interface system before attempting force field protocols.

"Uhh . . . Optimus Prime?" Imp's voice carried the sound of fear.

Lying on his back, Prime balanced a delicate oscillating instrument. From one end of communications, Trinket's language deteriorated in frustration. Imp's fear was drowned out by several loud four-letter words. "Trinket!" Prime called. "Stand by. What is it Imp?"

"That . . . that storm? Another one is coming in." pause. "Yeah . . . I see disc lightening at the horizon."

"How far?"

"Fifty, maybe sixty clicks."

Never a dull moment, Prime thought. "Imp, get everyone on the periphery back to camp. Trinket, less swearing and move faster, please."

Static set in, making communications difficult and many EDC workers complained about 'shock treatment' they received upon traveling from one vessel to another.

Galvatron rejoined Prime at the Confiscator as he and Redial reconfigured the force field stabilizers. The Decepticon, who endured insults and dirty looks the past several hours, set a crate of scavenged parts next to Prime. He glanced at Redial who glowered at him with contempt. "You're going to have a hole in the force field." he said ever so quietly.

Prime looked to him with weary optics. "We've been here for ten minutes."

Galvatron nodded left, silently inviting the Autobot leader to discuss the situation in private.

They took up a more isolated corner of the bridge and Redial watched them, angry over Galvatron's obvious control of his leader. The Paratron's optics dropped to the plasma welder in his hand. He'd love to shove this straight into Galvatron's processor and listen as the 'pinx' screamed. Redial wanted to watch this Decepticon abomination suffer the worst of fates.

Galvatron was the reason Redial lost his beloved home, his friends and way of life.

Prime slipped into the Confiscator's corner and slumped just slightly. Galvatron made sure to shield him from Redial's view and read exhaustion on his friend's face. "There is a large gap between the Interrogator and the Sagittarian Mozart. It's too broad for the force field. How's Rodimus?"

"Still with me. But wavering." Prime covered his face and tried to shut out the horrible sensations radiating from Roddi. He needed to be there. He needed to be here. "It's too late to move the Hannibal's Mark next to the Interrogator-"

"I have an idea," Galvatron broke in. "It'll be easy to set up. But clean up will be a longer process-"

"Out with it. The storm will be here in under an hour."

"The wings. Eighteen of your ships have wings. We can remove those and use them to link the force field without endangering the ships."

Prime stared, astounded at the brilliance and simplicity of the plan. "Like posts for a fence."

"Exactly."

Prime stepped around Galvatron, a hand on the Decepticon's shoulder. "Redial, get a hold of Grotesque. We're going to do something different."

Everyone capable of moving and utilizing a tool took up a job. One crew dismantled the ship's wings. The Dinobots and Monsterbots carried and planted the wings. Another group stabilized the 'fence' while two groups attended the ships.

Nightbeat raced into camp from watch just as the first thunder growled low and long. The wind followed, coming in as a deceiving ocean breeze.

The Saber's Claw was the last ship to go. The parameter fence was ready and all other ships stood by to activate.

Blaster and Wavelength worked as fast as they could but the Saber's comline was fried during the battle between Grimlock and Lux.

Everyone in camp felt restless as the area's magnetic fields built up a super-charge. At any moment, they knew the storm would unleash a terrible and costly rage.

"It ain't goin', Prime." Blaster announced, frustrated. "These boards 'r singing the black n' blues."

"Why aren't the replacements from the Crested Moon working?"

"Beats me."

Wavelength poked his head up from under the flooring and shut off the soldering iron. "All the connection r' in a row. Sweet duckies, Sir. But uh, just no juice."

Optimus' head pounded. The last several moments caught him swinging between the present and the agony Roddi experienced-

_That cold descent into self-hatred._

Stop!

Stop!

Not now!

He turned from them, from the moment. Void hissed between realities. The approaching storm muttered profanities.

Optimus felt himself slip. He was on a ship, but he did not know which one. He was in a room, but did not know what room. He was a leader, but did not remember of what people.

He was an Autobot-

_"Optimus."_

That was someone far away. Instinctively Prime wanted to answer. It stopped him from slipping further.

A shadow stood before him.

"Commander, someone told me . . ."

Roddi was dying. He would follow.

" . . . the Saber's Claw . . ."

He would bury Rodimus and follow soon after.

"I think I can do it if you'll let me try."

He'd bury Rodimus here . . . wherever here might be. I'm sorry, Roddi! Oh, such great sadness! Did he not promise Roddi their future would not be like the one from which he came?

Forgive me for closing you off! Forgive me for shutting you out!

Forgive!

Forgive!

Galvatron gripped him about the arms and suddenly Optimus was back on the Saber's Claw, among his people. Something exploded outside.

"What?" Prime searched Galvatron's bright red optics then slumped.

"Yes! Do it!" Galvatron ordered in Prime's stead.

Cloudstreaker had not felt well since Sideswipe found her and brought her to medbay. No one could attend her since she was not in a life-threatening condition. She waded through her aches and pains, waiting. But upon hearing about power problems and the force field on the Saber's Claw, she knew she could still contribute to everyone else's safety.

She did not expect Optimus to stare through her as she spoke. Nor did she ever think she'd see him cry. Cloudstreaker was even more surprised when Galvatron rushed past her and caught Prime as he slowly sank to his knees.

But she did not hesitate when the Decepticon said she could give her idea a shot. Cloudstreaker dashed outside and opened her subspace conduits as far as they could go. She drained power from the Covenant then redirected power flow through the Claw.

Blaster yahooed and hit the circuit breaker.

Outside, Crossy, Titanium and Jazz watched as three discs of electricity whizzed through the air. The lightening sizzled and snapped before a high-pitched whine ended in a click-snap. The discs headed for a wing-post and died in a brilliance of light. Jazz and Crossy flinched.

Nothing happened.

Another disc of light hit and it too fizzled harmlessly against on invisible barrier.

"IT WORKS!" Jazz declared. Crossy jumped up and down, shouting joyously. She was joined by refugees all over the camp as lightening and dreadful winds beat against the force field.

The terrible storm now made a fabulous sound and light show.

In spite of the beautiful display outside there were other problems at hand. Blaster had to stay with the Saber's Claw board lines to make sure nothing overloaded. Wavelength kept communication channels open between the other ships and made adjustments between the ships and the wing ports.

Optimus sat against the wall, exhausted, but clear-headed as long as Galvatron remained and kept him focused.

"I don't want Roddi to leave me," he confessed mournfully.

"I don't want him to leave you, either." Galvatron agreed. "He's probably the sane one between you."

Prime tried to make sense of what was going on outside the ship. Weren't they in danger a while ago? "It's quiet," he muttered.

"Yes. The force field is holding."

Prime's optics dimmed.

Galvatron half-turned and tried to remember the communication officer's name. "Erm . . . Blaster."

"Yeah," came his cold reply.

"We need a medic here."

"I'm a _little_ busy, Galvatron in case you've not noticed."

Galvatron tried not to be angry. His optics drifted back to the other communications officer as the Autobot climbed out the underdeck. Wavelength patched into the Dancing Siren. "Hey, Trinket? Can someone come out here to the Saber? Optimus is down." The younger Autobot knelt next to Prime and scrunched his face. He glanced at Galvatron. "Static," he explained. "Yeah, hey, Optimus needs someone-Okay . . . um, I don't know." Wavelength gazed at his leader, cringed, shook his head and met Galvatron's optics. "They wanna know his electropulse." Wavelength shrugged.

Galvatron shook his head, wandering why they couldn't send someone over. He laid two fingers along the back of Prime's neck and counted.

"Yeah," Wavelength answered the call, "Galvatron is taking it now."

"Twenty-four, twelve, ninety-two."

"Uh, twenty-four, twelve, ninety-two. Yeah. Oh, Primus. Is he okay?" Wavelength met the Decepticon's expectant gaze. "They said Rodimus flat-lined a couple moments ago."

At first Galvatron did not make the connection then he realized: "They're bound by the Matrix."

Wavelength only nodded.

Galvatron thought back to his Old Self and recalled the two times he had the Matrix in his possession. It scared the living slag out of him. And yet . . . yet he was ever so aware of it; a comforting presence, a living thing that breathed on him something pure. The Matrix was a light that brought to his mind something even Megatron never knew.

That moment, there, next to Optimus and Wavelength, Galvatron realized the Matrix and the Music were of similar substance. They were not one and the same, but similar. Happiness wrought of integrity and honor embodied in light.

Galvatron traced the edge of Prime's helm along the left side. The light within the Matrix was dying and with it, Optimus and Rodimus.

They waited forty long moments before Trinket arrived. She quickly scanned her commanding officer who did nothing more than stare at Galvatron.

"Optimus," she called, "Do you remember or know what caused the fit?"

He did not so much as look at her. Frustrated, Trinket set her hand at the back of her neck and popped weary joints. She turned to Galvatron, her expression trained neutral. "Did he do this before?"

"We were in Concentric City the last time he blacked out."

She scowled. "Well . . . I'm not getting any readings. I can give him a ration of stronger energon-"

"That's it?" Galvatron stared at her with disgust. "Feed him and put him to bed? He needs better analysis, better care-"

"There is _nothing_ I can do for him! It's Virus-related and we don't have the technology to deal with it! And I have to get back to Ultra Magnus or we can lose him, too!"

Galvatron hung his head, frustrated. "I'll . . . come get the energon."

Trinket stood. "No. I'll send someone over. You might get killed between here and over there." she stepped out, leaving Galvatron to brainstorm for answers on his own.

**Pt 6: Patience and Glue**

The laughter of a little girl at play carried with the wind. She ran along green grass on a cool April day. Friendly clouds whisked across the sun at their own risk.

Optimus remembered the digipad in his hand. Schematics ran though a logic processor while he waited and watched the little girl. She just discovered the magic of bugs.

"Look!" she called as a caterpillar wiggled its fuzziness over her fingers.

Optimus was inclined to laugh. She was a caterpillar on his finger, too. But it was her laughter that tickled him most.

The digipad softly bleeped, indicating the schematics passed and Optimus could forward them to the next phase. This particular project was the Vertical Horizon, one of fifty star cruisers that would be assigned to each Autobot city.

Rusti settled next to a nearby tree. "He needs a house," she declared in her tiny voice.

"Are you going to build it for him?"

"Yup!"

Optimus could not contain his smile as she started gathering rocks, leaves and sticks. "Are you going to charge him rent?"

"Hm hmm!"

"Are you going to make him popcorn for dinner?"

She stopped, thrown off by his illogical question. Her little face scrunched in confusion. "Opt'mus, you can't have popcorn for dinner!" she thought quickly. "He can have peas."

"Peas?" Prime tapped new instructions into the pad. "You don't like peas. How come you make _him_ eat them?"

"Cause . . . b'cause. B'cause." the wrestling of leaves caught the girl's attention and she turned away as Rodimus trudged up from the valley.

Rusti paid no attention while the two Primes talked quietly. Through a shallow pile of old leaves, she found a little bird, shaking and panting. The girl instinctively knew the bird was fragile and had to be handled with great care. She very gently scooped her hands under it and tried to walk slowly. Maybe Optimus could help him find his home.

"Opt'mus!" she called "I found a baby bird! I think it got lost." she came twenty feet and watched the Senior Prime bow over in grief.

"Hey, Lady-friend!" Roddi cheerfully called. "Did you find something?"

He wasn't fooling her. "The baby bird, Roddi," she answered. "Is Opt'mus okay?"

"He's okay, Rusti. How about you and me go take a walk?"

Her heart went out to Optimus. She wanted to make him better. Maybe the fluttering little bird in her hands could make magic and make Optimus feel better.

No, Rusti decided, that was her job. "Here, Roddi. You have to find his home." She put the tiny creature into Roddi's outstretched reach then headed for Optimus. Her little hands laid on his foot and she searched for his optics. "Don't cry. The bird's okay."

"It's not the bird, Rusti," Prime answered simply.

"What is it? Did someone hurt you?" She watched as one Prime looked to the other as though asking permission. She knew it was serious and trusted Optimus not to lie to her.

Still, he hesitated then answered, "somebody died, Rusti. Someone I loved very much.

She did not understand death. She only knew it made him very sad. She pressed herself close to him in an effort to hug. "Don't cry, Opt'mus." she said softly. "I will take care of you."

That was the moment he fell in love with her.

Optimus woke to morning light. Blaster slept sitting in his chair while Wavelength quietly spoke to someone on the Cold Refractor.

To his left, Galvatron sat propped against the wall. His arms crossed and locked, his optics dark in slumber. Prime half-rolled to sit up and spotted Galvatron's wounded leg, now well healed. His movements woke the Decepticon, red optics dimmed on.

At first, Prime was sharply reminded of the power behind the creature-being called Decepticon. The Autobot's Cybertronian cousins were every bit as intimidating as Autobots were approachable. The mere presence of the Decepticon demanded both fear and respect; living weapons.

But Prime himself was purged of fear of them megania ago. "The storm?" he asked quietly.

"Passed hours ago."Galvatron reported in the same tone. "Rodimus?"

"Stable, but weak."

"Perhaps you should like to visit him."

The Autobot leader sat up and took on a mental consensus of his surroundings. He measured the state of being among his people and to his relief, it seemed most of them took time to rest during the night. "I think I will," he agreed, "but there's something else I need to do first."

Quasar was injured but not to the point of disability. She took care of lightly-injured Autobots who needed repairs or replacements that did not require tedious work or surgery. Though her mobility was limited to a slow walk, it did not hamper her swiftly-calculating mind. The nanosecond Optimus found her, the femme swept up a scanner and took a reading.

"Nice to see you, too," Prime greeted.

She looked pensive. "I have a right to be worried-"

"I need your help." he handed her the allocation tracking device.

She eyed it then him, skeptical. "Alright."

"I need it reversed."

It only took her four seconds. "A signal repulser rather than a frequency jammer?"

"Right. It should cover our tracks as we leave Cratis."

"Done."

"Thank you." He turned to leave when she called after:

"Thank YOU!" Prime turned back and she smiled. "For coming home to us alive."

"Consider thanking Galvatron."

The next morning brought better moods and greater activity. Able-bodied names on the duty roster expanded by three hundredpercent. Optimus ordered all hands to concentrate on ship repair and preparing for departure protocols. He assigned those techs who could be spared by First Aid (both of them) to prep all ships for hyperdrive installation.

That meant Quasar, Wavelength, Galvatron and himself. But Optimus could not join the other three anytime soon; he was needed everywhere else.

The best news Optimus had that day was the Sagittarian Mozart was almost ready for hyperdrive installation. All they needed was to re-weld a few bulkheads, treat the outside scanners with a special chemical coating and load her with supplies. Prime assigned Doublecross to the unwanted job of chemical coating. The liquid graphite emulsifier was important as it kept ships entering or leaving planetary orbit from exposure to harmful radiation and microscopic particles. Such particles and radiation often pummeled a ship's exterior, leaving it vulnerable to damage. Most Autobots could not properly control the emulsifier and lay a solid, even coat. Optimus knew Doublecross had an unusual skill in dealing with emulsifiers, since she aided in emulsifying the decks and walls of Fortress Sonix upon its near-completion. Jazz bragged about her work for six days.

He started to leave the Mozart when Bumblebee handed him the latest casualties list. He thanked the little fellow with a heart warming smile and reassigned The Bee to parameter watch.

Optimus took six steps toward the Spiral Star when he abruptly pause, turned about face and watched as Crossy painted the Mozart's name with a small paint brush holding only two hairs.

The Autobot leader approached for a closer exam and watched for three more minutes, confused. "Doublecross, what are you doing?"

"I've completed the scanner assignment, sir. So I thought . . . you know . . . I'd start a little bit on the assignment Ultra Magnus gave me a couple weeks ago before I apply the emulsifier. Cuz paint doesn't stay well on, um, the stuff."

He watched her for another moment and a half, visibly perplexed. "What did you do to irritate Ultra Magnus so badly?"

She visibly cringed and Optimus sensed it was something the femme Monsterbot swore she'd never do again.

As he analyzed personnel data given him by Blaster and Colt, the Autobot leader reached the Spiral Star. He read the casualties list. Forty-eight humans and thirty-five Autobots perished. Those were lives that could not be replaced.

Stay objective, he told himself, don't give any reason for Void to resurface. The list was a sad one. Autobots, Humans, friends and allies; more than just soldiers and families. More than just officers and professionals; they were all his people.

Dr. Zornoy greeted Prime at the Spiral Star's entrance. He gave Prime a long list of grievances and requests for medicines and cleansers. Optimus listened as Zornoy counted off the over-use of packaged emergency rations. The doctor added complaints regarding the lack of proper fluids for the children and the plague of alien head lice battled on the Trench Driver. Zornoy mourned over depression and exhaustion suffered by all his patients. He detailed the plague of nightmares several adults and most children endured; the nightmare almost always consisting of a science lab where people were experimented upon.

Finally, Zornoy told Prime of the first ion storm they encountered and what it did to Jasmine Goodwin.

"What sort of effects, Dr. Zornoy?" Prime asked quietly.

The extra terrestrial doctor frowned before leading Optimus to the Spiral Star's quarantine section. Zornoy used a personal access code to open three doors before he and Prime traversed the short corridor to a series of cells with energy bars. One to the right contained a lady who drew pictures and equations along every square inch of her cell, even the table and chair assigned to her.

The next cell utilized a grid-bar designed to block out sound-and with good reason. The woman therein screamed and bucked against her restraints.

Prime took another look at the lady in Cell A then the one in Cell B.

"Yes," Zornoy confirmed. "They're the same person but split."

"The ion storm did _this?_ I've never heard of something like this happening."

Zornoy shrugged. "This is the universe, Optimus Prime. No one writes the rules, we're all just observers."

The Autobot leader knelt before Cell A and watched the quiet Jasmine work on whatever project her fragmented mind demanded. Optimus observed her rather than her work. "Why are you screaming in the next room?"

Jasmine sighed. "She sees the invisible. She sees the Alternate realities. She dreams along ley lines and hears the psychic and the empathic."

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

"She can't be helped. She exists elsewhere."

"We might be able to get you help on Yolthanis III."

Jasmine now tore her concentration from her present spot on the wall and approached him, pen held at the ready as though she were going to write on the prison bars. "There are a calculated eleven universes or realities according to math. But I tell you that there are even more than that. I tell you that there are parallel realities and time fractures and alternate realities and sometimes . . . _sometimes_ one reality becomes another when history has gone too far wrong. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to come back at all. This whole reality was set up to correct a mistake."

Optimus peered more closely at her. "What mistake?"

Jasmine glanced at Zornoy then back to the Autobot. "_The girl._"

The alien doctor scoffed. "Not again. Jasmine, you say this, then you change your mind."

"I don't change my mind. I say different things according to different times. If you listen long enough, you will hear me scream of death by cancer. Death by broken heart. Death by destruction of the Matrix-"

Zornoy cut her off: "-and yesterday you proclaimed a universe where all Transformers were half-beast and half-creature."

"The Fuzors exist!" Jasmine insisted. "But they'll never be here!"

"Why is that?" Optimus asked.

She locked him in sight: "The death of a god. The birth of an abomination. And a planet-creature who has adopted orphaned children. The Beasts and Fuzors can never exist here. But they do exist."

"Uh-huh." Zornoy turned to leave. "We get this sci-fi story all too often. We're departing, Jasmine. Bid your company good-bye."

Optimus wanted to hear more. He vaguely recalled the time bubble Magnus and Rodimus said they were trapped in almost two years ago. He rose and headed for the door but Jasmine's voice stopped him one additional moment:

"Optimus! Optimus! Do not listen to the song of Zh'Xn! It will kill you. Listen to me, don't listen to it! It calls, but not for you!"

Prime did not know what to say. With a wave and a smile, Dr. Zornoy led the Autobot leader out the door. "We don't expect her to live much longer. And I don't think there is a technology of any kind that can put Ms. Humpty Dumpty together again."

Optimus ran Jasmine's words through his mind. Most of it did sound made up. Some of it made sense.

Void hissed its defiance and Optimus firmly held his own against it.

_NOT CONTROLLABLE. NOT ALWAYS FOREVER._

Optimus felt it lick him inside. His systems shut down then instantly kicked back in. He shuddered from a nonexistent sense of cold and he outwardly flinched.

"I'm sorry, Optimus Prime. You're rather silent. Are you alright?"

"Just a bit tired," he brushed off. "Doctor Zornoy . . . how's Rusti?" He felt selfish asking for something that had little to nothing to do with their survival. Optimus laid a hand on his chest. Maybe her life was not important to the overall scheme of things. But she was important to him. And terrifying enough, he realized he did not want to know the truth; did not want to know that she was not well, but knew it anyway.

Zornoy turned away, the expression was all Optimus needed. "She's in a medical-induced coma right now. We have her on a plasma drip. She and six others. The attack on the Frostbite was neither brief nor pleasant. At least the attackers all ended dead." Zornoy finally looked back at Prime. "We need water. Not the limited supply we brought with us, not the crap from the ground here. Good water."

Optimus nodded, saddened that his heart was with someone he could not be with, that his duty lay with the Autobots. His fist clenched and unclenched with conflicting emotions. "Please keep me informed on her condition, Doctor."

Zornoy tossed him a weary smile. "You know I shall."

From there, Optimus visited Kup who attained consciousness just an hour before. The cranky old hen fussed with his care giver who insisted she tend to someone worse off then himself. "Well, of all the fuse-blown, logic-stripping audacity. Optimus Prime, I presume."

Apogee handed Kup a flagon of cordial and stepped away with a welcoming smile. The Autobot leader sat in her place with a hand on Kup's injured shoulder. "Hello, Kup. I'm glad to see you up and alive."

But Kup did not share his gratitude. Pain dimmed the old warrior's optics. "Roddi, Prime. He's had an awful time. Not that I don't think he can't handle it. He's resilient, bounces back like a ballobot. But it's been really tough on him."

"As you say, Kup, he'll rebound. And when he does, no doubt he'll kick my aft over the idea of going to Mars."

"Nah. That'll be Rusti's job. What's left of you might be divided between Roddi and Magnus-" Kup's optics quite suddenly shot wide then flared hot. "What the lug-crankin', shaft jammin' Pitt are _you_ doing here?"

Prime turned and greeted Galvatron with a neutral expression. Galvatron flashed a grin at the 'old coot' then dropped it just as quickly. Prime stood as he approached. "Seems there's a problem with a . . . " he wanted to say _flesh creature_ but chose his wording with care: " . . . male Human."

" . . . and all them are pricks waiting to play you like a rejected Atari-"

"I am not listening-"

"-you never do, stupid filter-headed femme."

"That was a low-blow, Daniel-"

"SHUT UP, SIDESWIPE! Nobody asked you-"

"Don't you walk away from me, Arcee, you have no right to turn your back -"

"Fuck off, Daniel-"

"No! You come _do me_ first, you dilapidated catalytic converter-just open your mouth long enough for me to hose it down!"

"Say what you like, you recessive genetic defect, I am NOT going to rejoin you. Stay out of my-"

"What is going on here?" Optimus heard their three voices three ships away and it seemed people went out of their way to pass by and see what was going on. Daniel glowered the ugliest expression toward him. Prime read pain and rage in Arcee's face while Sideswipe tried to keep his expression non-committal. He stood between them, one foot closer to Daniel.

Witwicky squinted his eyes. "Oh, look, Daddy Prime is here, Arcee, come to take you home and protect you."

Prime only glanced at him then looked to Sideswipe for answers.

Sideswipe stared at the silent, neutral face of Galvatron. "Daniel was asking Arcee to . . . take up the Headmaster process again."

"I see. And what was your answer, Arcee?"

She opened her mouth to speak but Daniel answered for her: "She _knows_ it's the best thing that's ever happened to her but she's afraid everyone thinks of her a freak-"

"I did not ask you to speak for her, Daniel Albert Witwicky." Optimus growled.

"Oooh! All three names! Did you hear _that_ one, Arcee? You must have blabbed it off to someone. Why didn't you just have dog tags made for me? Where's the leash-"

"DANIEL!" Prime's voice firmed and the little man crossed his arms and sulked.

Arcee stared at the Human ass. "I told Daniel I chose not to; I wanted nothing more to do with him-"

"You said a lot more than _that_, Arcee. The word 'zit' fell from your lips. I'm amazed you even know-"

Prime squatted in front of Daniel and flashed his optics. "Speak out of turn one more time, Daniel, and I'll put you in isolation." His calm voice only elicited another ugly expression. He straightened: "Arcee, I'm assigning you to the Spiral Star to assist First Aid."

"Aye, sir."

"Daniel, maintenance . . . on the Alvarez."

Witwicky's face dropped. "WHAT?"

Optimus knew Daniel heard him, but chose to repeat anyway: "Maintenance. On the Alvarez."

"But that's an Autobot quarters ship-and it's infected!"

Prime gazed at Sideswipe. "Get Daniel some equipment, would you?"

Witwicky snorted. "And what if I say no? What're you going to do, Prime? Step on me? Huh? Your High-And-Mightyship doesn't have the guts to carry out threats."

A hand flattened the ground around Daniel and he found himself standing between a thumb and forefinger. Prime came inches to swatting him like a fly. "Don't push me, Daniel. Don't test my patience." He tapped his head. "The chip isn't working. And if I don't do something, you'd better start worrying about Rodimus. I left his leash at home."

That got Witwicky's attention. It meant that whatever action Rodimus chose to take with him, Optimus would not get in the way to protect. The Human jerk passed his gaze from Prime to Galvatron and silently made his way to the Alvarez. He flipped the bird at Arcee, however and continued on his way.

"Optimus?" Arcee's voice came small, a bit on the fearful side. Prime straightened and gazed at her. It really was her entirely and he wanted to tell her how good it was to see the femme as herself again. "How's Ultra Magnus?"

"That, Arcee, is a very good question."

Magnus reposed on a two-slab flat barely large enough to accommodate his size. Two other flats occupied by wounded Autobots stood a few yards off. Dim lighting cast grey shadows in the quiet room. The only movement came from a femme sitting beside Magnus. Optimus glanced twice before recognizing Cloudstreaker. Her optics lit softly upon spotting him. Prime warned her to stay quiet with a finger to his face plate.

She followed him out the room and closed the door. "Jazz said I could take a break for two hours. I thought I'd check to see if Ultra Magnus was okay."

Optimus brushed a bit of soil off the side of her helm and gave her a pleased smile. "Galvatron told me what you did, Cloudstreaker. You're very brave and I'd like to thank you for such quick thinking."

She flushed and cast her optics to the floor. "I'm glad I can help."

"How's Ultra Magnus?"

"They um . . . they're still waiting for results."

"Results?"

"They've had to replace his retraction instuds and . . . and had to flush the ventral fuel lines. They won't come out and say it, but I'm worried he might've been poisoned."

Exhaustion and concern for Magnus weighed heavy on Cloudstreaker's face. Optimus wondered when she rested last. It seemed cruel to send her away, but the femme drained her energy to protect the camp. "Get some rest, Cloudstreaker. I'll have someone inform know if there's any change." He followed her wishful optics as they stared at the door as if she could see through it. "He'll make it," Prime added. "I am certain Ultra Magnus isn't done bossing us around."

She forced a light smile and reluctantly walked away. Prime watched until she disappeared then entered the quiet room and sat beside the city commander. "Don't make a liar out of me, Magnus," he muttered.

Optimus stayed with the Major-General through the afternoon. Reports drifted piecemeal from the Confiscator and the Saber's Claw: both were refit with their wings and ready for hyperdrive installation. Prime worried, however, that another storm might hit before they could escape Cratis. He debated about removing the camp shields before contacting the shield crew and rescinding the order to refit the ship's wings. They simply could not afford to lie vulnerable to another ion storm.

Progress was slow, but at least they moved forward in spite of the senior staff. Except Jazz, all were laid up, recovering.

Because most of the other fliers were down (including Cloudstreaker), Cyclonus, Fireflight and Dogfight took on twelve-hour shift patrol runs around the camp's parameter. Galvatron and Jazz (who kept his complaints about the 'Cons to himself) handled supplies and several landing gear repairs. They sent Prime meticulous, detailed updates every thirty to forty minutes without fail.

"You're spoiling me," Prime communicated to Galvatron.

"Is that so?" Galvatron and Fort Draco's second-in-command, Spectrum, followed the extended hydriodic lines along the Trench Driver for reported leaks.

"If everyone were as efficient as you, I'd have no need for digipads."

Spectrum looked up when Galvatron half-laughed. "You'd be bored, Prime," he answered smoothly. "But that's fine. I'll let you bask in my greatness. After all, when your senior staff return to work, they'll force you to put me down."

Optimus fell sadly quiet. "I won't let that happen," he vowed.

Galvatron shut off a valve, shrugged outwardly and began disconnecting an outer pipe. "I'm not concerned. If I die, I die." He got no response and paused in his work long enough to realize he meant more to the Autobot leader than a casual acquaintance. Galvatron caught Spectrum staring at him. Suspicion crossed the Autobot's optics.

Galvatron shrugged off the fear. "Confession time, Optimus," he said aloud. He scanned the inner pipe and exchanged it for a new one. "I often toyed with the idea of reprogramming you."

"Why didn't you?"

Galvatron smiled because he hated his former self. "I did, remember?"

"Not clearly," Prime answered slowly.

"You made a mess of things, though." Galvatron sensed Prime's smile as he tightened the new pipe.

"Are you saying you'd make a better Autobot than I a Decepticon?"

Galvatron's mood lightened and he paused before reconnecting another set of hydraulic lines. "I don't know. Lemme ask around."

Optimus covered his face with his hand and shook his head.

"Do you think I'd make a better Autobot than Prime as a Decepticon?"

Spectrum stared at Galvatron, unsure how to answer. He felt incredibly awkward in light of Galvatron's humor.

The Decepticon grinned. "Well, Prime, it seems I haven't been an Autobot long enough for the report card to come in. Guess I'd better keep working."

"Heh." Optimus sensed Spectrum's consternation. "They'll warm up to you."

The digipad in Prime's hand switched screens as First Aid submitted an update on Grimlock's condition. Optimus read it then laid a hand on Magnus' arm. "Galvatron, I need to visit Grimlock."

Technically, the visit was unnecessary. The Dinobot leader hung suspended in stasis and little could be done for him. But Prime felt it important to the other Dinobots he took time to let them know they were not forgotten.

Grimlock's body floated in a transparent titanium cell of polymers liquid. At the other end of the same room lay Snarl, his body coiled by tubes and computer support systems. The Autobot leader took a moment to read Snarl's tablet. He was not as badly damaged as Grimlock, but he was not going to recover any time soon, either.

Loss of the Dinobots would take a toll on the rest of the camp because they handled all the heavy-duty jobs; jobs only a few other Autobots could take. Optimus approached Grimlock. He took care to acknowledge the other three Dinobots. They wore battered marks, slices, gashes and serious dents. Prime figured none of the remaining Dinobots wished to leave Grimlock's side, no matter how much pain they were in. Prime laid a hand on the glass containing the Dinobot leader. Grimlock's optics remained dark, unaware of his situation or surroundings. Even damaged, torn and broken, the Dinobot leader looked imposing, his frame bespoke of power wrought of raw determination. From what little Optimus learned of the battle, it was probably one of Grimlock's best moments.

He turned to Slag, Sludge and Swoop. None of them shared words with him. Their faces said everything.

Optimus could not afford the other Dinobots to linger in depression. He needed to get their minds off Grimlock's and Snarl's situation, but nothing appropriate came to him. He departed, laying a kind hand on Sludge's shoulder as he left the room in silence.

**Pt 7: Consequences**

At two P.M. Earth time, the explosion shot off in the lower decks of the Gabriel Genesis. Autobots and EDC officers scrambled like ants caught in a fire. They raced in and out, rescuing people, equipment and as many rations as they could.

Doublecross, Grotesque and Sureshot hit the flames and yanked emergency levers before the plasma fire ate the new fuel lines. They extinguished both fire and smoke by venting all oxygen from the Genesis.

Optimus wanted nothing more than to lose his temper over the moment. There was no reason for anything to blow on the ship and had there been a bomb (as he privately suspected) the Genesis should have detected it.

As the emergency died down, Optimus sent Bumblebee, Siren and Imp with a droid scout to investigate.

Optimus anticipated some Autobots would instantly point fingers at Galvatron and Cyclonus. But the two Decepticons were with other Autobots at all times and that very fact would certainly eliminate them as suspects. But it also meant they either had bombs planted by Decepticons during the battle, or there was a traitor in the camp.

The good thing was the ship's drive system was largely undamaged. But some of their energon supply was lost in the explosion. Bumblebee's report also stated the Gabriel Genesis was incapable of life support during space travel until internal hydraulics and air filtration systems were fixed. And they had no way of purchasing a new filter system.

If that was the worst bit of news Optimus received for the day, he might have considered it a descent day.

That wasn't the sort of fortune the Autobots have had. Delta found an explosive in a wall compartment on the Armored Crest. Physix found another in auxiliary control on the Crested Moon. Jazz ran into two of them on the landing gear on the Hannibal's Mark

Optimus ordered all activity to cease. Those few Autobot and EDC officers off duty were confined to the Dancing Siren and the Razor Lady for safety while the Autobot leader handpicked ten people to comb the entire camp.

But even that did not bode smoothly enough.

It was EDC officer Vazquez who called Prime's attention to the fight at the Confiscator. Sideswipe and Repugnus started with a name-calling contest that reached the point of vulgarity.

"What's going on?" Prime demanded without preamble.

Sideswipe's optics were bright-hot. "This THING that we have allowed loose in the camp!"

Repugnus, in robot mode, shrugged. "I was looking for entertainment," the Monsterbot grunted. "He was cheap."

Sideswipe cried out and leapt toward the Monsterbot, but Optimus intercepted, pushing the warrior back. "Return to your previous post, Sideswipe! Enough of this, both of you!"

Sideswipe glared. "Monsterbot freaks and Decepticon pinx. A one-way ticket to the Pitt."

Optimus stood almost nose-to-nose with Sideswipe. "One more word out of you, mister, and you'll be sitting next to Strike Back. Do I make myself clear?"

"Transparent . . . sir." Sideswipe wisely turned and stomped off. Prime turned to the Monsterbot.

"I do not need your help to make things difficult, Repugnus. Am I clear on that?"

"Like glass. Gotta mention, though it ain't entirely his fault. Not that I hadn't been makin' sport a' him. But Side's is pissed like a sorian puppy. 'N fact, he's just blowing brain matter cuz his twit-uh-twin's in the 'firmary with bandaids and bad medicine."

Optimus stared a moment, realizing what the Monsterbot was implying. "I'll look into it, Repugnus, thank you. How's the sweep going on the Confiscator?"

"Nearly done. So far clean as a babe in water. By another way, while you're at it, you might wanna know that there's a lotta radioactive crap on the battlefield. Might need a clean up crew so the squishies don't get sick."

One more thing Optimus forgot to put on his list. One more thing to think about. He did not have enough people, Autobots, EDC or citizens, to head that way and clean things up. "Well . . . seems you just made a new job for yourself, then. Take Crossy with you." Optimus turned away then swung back around, an idea suddenly struck: "Get the Dinobots out there, Repugnus, would you? It's doing them no good to worry over Grimlock."

"What? You askin' me to play Dino-sitter? This isn't Romper Room and I ain't a Sunday school teacher."

"Oh." Optimus nodded. "I'm sorry, Repugnus. I did not realize it was that difficult. I'll ask Rusti when she gets out of bed."

"I didn't say I'd not do it," the Monsterbot replied almost instantly. "I just said I ain't a Sunday school teacher."

"I don't expect you to teach them to read and write; just keep them occupied while Grimlock is down, that's all."

"Occupied, eh?" Repugnus shifted from robot to Monster mode and smiled wickedly. "Where's their leashes?"

Perceptor caught Prime on his way back to the Spiral Star. Not only did the Autobot leader want to visit Sunstreaker, but he sensed something through the Matrix and needed to spend time with Rodimus. As usual, however, Perceptor rattled endlessly in Prime's audios about each component necessary to fix the Gabriel Genesis. He was unaware that just ten minutes ago, Blaster reported communications between the Genesis, the Vertical Horizon and the Interrogator was sabotaged so that all frequencies 'leaked' into one another and could be picked up with something as simple as an Earth shortwave transmitter. It meant that ship-to-ship communications could not be used on Cratis.

Sabotage was a common tactic employed by Decepticon raiders and invaders. But why communications only? The explosives were certainly of their adversary's nature, but causing communications to 'bleed' made no sense.

Perceptor yammered so that he failed to see Galvatron quietly approach, wiping fluids off his hands and arms. ". . . in response to several semi-conductor boards and the anti-protonic interfaces. The conductivity of their interaction would reiterate the necessitation of their-"

"Stop." Prime held a hand in front of Perceptor and turned to Galvatron. "Why do you think the Decepticons would sabotage ship-to-ship communications?"

Galvatron's blank expression twisted into confusion, matching Prime's. "Sabotaging communications?"

"Yes. No jammed frequencies, no bugs or other listening devices. They just changed the interfaces so that all frequencies are interchangeable."

"There's no reason for that. Destroying communication is a better tactic than fragmenting frequencies. And that would take a long . . ." Galvatron stared hard at Prime, his visage winced in realization, "Oh . . . Prime . . . that would entail an expert such as Soundwave or Blaster to bleed frequencies."

"Exactly. And the ships' shields were active except for the-"

"Frostbite." they chorused.

"Right."

The two paused half a moment until First Aid called Prime on the interpersonal com and Prime's optics darkened. "Go ahead, First Aid," he answered internally.

"Optimus, Ambient has been poisoned."

Prime gazed at Galvatron. "I have to go. But I need to stay. And Rodimus-"

"I'll handle the Frostbite and look into this little side note."

Prime shook his head. "I can't ask you-"

"You're understaffed. Jazz is handling rations and supplies now. Most all your experts are tending the ships and the heavyweights are cleaning up the mess outside." Galvatron snatched Prime's digipad. "Besides, don't you think I have the credentials for this job? I do have some experience."

Prime was forced to agree. "Perceptor, you're to assist Galvatron."

"But Prime-"

"That's an order, Perceptor."

The Autobot scientist looked like a child left with a babysitter. His sad, uncertain gaze dragged from Prime to Galvatron. He scowled, liking the situation with the Decepticons less all the time; especially since they had more the Autobot leader's attention than he. Galvatron gave him the same 'toothy' smile he once gave GoBot Painter.

Perceptor looked very nervous.

Optimus traveled the rampway to the Siren's second level and passed several rooms before finding Ambient.

First Aid double checked a feed with his assistant before guiding Optimus out the room. The doctor glanced over his shoulder, fearful of eavesdropping.

"Aid?" Prime asked quietly.

The medic switched to an internal comline. "She insists it was no one on the battlefield, Prime. She started feeling ill just last night."

"Slow poison perhaps?"

"No, not that slow."

Prime's optics flashed his annoyance. "Keep the strictest of tabs on her. If anyone else is affected, I want to know about it immediately. How are Rodimus and Sunstreaker?"

First Aid cast his optics elsewhere.

Sunstreaker's pain radiated from his room like a typhoon. No sooner did Optimus Prime step off the turbo lift than it slammed square in his face. He hit the wall and crumbled, smothered by a powerful cocktail of hate, anger, distress, depression and self-loathing.

The Autobot leader lay there, struggling against thoughts that were not his own. He swam through a tar pit of memories from the battle as they played hell with his processor. Optimus relived Sunny's fight with a Pretender. It slipped out its shell and charged him from two sides. It slashed and slugged him from one side while the shell disjointed his left arm.

Sunny killed it. Yes, he killed it _dead_. But not before it shattered half the plating on his face; not before it severed a nice chunk from his leg. Now he could no longer transform.

The storm came. Oh, painful storm! The sounds, the lights and then the bolt that hit his left side.

Sideswipe's voice came distantly, worried, fearful. Sunny could not answer. His body crashed along the ground. His mind crashed into darkness. His internals crashed and sizzled under plasma fire. His amitoid systems collapsed. His sensors fell into basic mode.

Optimus tried to reduce the trauma to a tolerant level. But his rational therum shields failed to absorb Sunstreaker's emotional terminal shock.

_What's wrong with me?_ Control over his senses fluctuated. Optimus was rarely overwhelmed but whatever afflicted Sunstreaker caused such shock that his emotions splattered the environment like blood.

Optimus pushed himself up and pushed himself forward and pushed himself to take the punishing distress. He dared closer to Sunstreaker's room. Memories violently penetrated his thoughts and disrupted his concentration. Optimus almost forgot why he was there. He steadied himself against the nearby wall. Depression raked into him and fed on his inner fortitude. He bled inside.

It's not me, he insisted. Not me! Not me! Some leader! Keep moving! Determination trained by centuries of survival tactics gave Prime the strength necessary to wade against Sunstreaker's emotional assaults.

Once in the room, Optimus kept a respectful distance. He firmly, consciously divided himself from Sunny's decomposed state of mind. It was a difficult task; just getting to the room exhausted him, left him open to Sunny's depression. Optimus had to remind himself several times he had not failed the Autobots before addressing the injured Autobot warrior.

"Sunstreaker," Optimus called gently. The Lambro-Autobot lay in pieces along the sterilized surface of a medbay table. Plasma fire ate eighty-five percent of his exostructure. His disfigured face twitched with damaged sensors.

Sunny tried to look elsewhere when Prime entered. His movements jerked and spasmed. The crisped fingers on his right hand twitched. "Didn't want . . . not believe . . ." his reverberated voice sounded like he talked through a tin can.

Optimus was not about to mention the price he paid to see Sunny. "I tried to get here sooner. I am sorry."

Sunny's right optic flared and swung from Prime to a corner and back. "Lousy fight. Lousy ambush. A lousy deal. Sideswipe's angry."

Prime forced himself to approach the wreckage. How much damage he caused himself, he did not know. Prime gazed into Sunstreaker's optics. Something felt off-kilter. Not just out of place or out of sorts, but _incorrect_. "What can I do to help, Sunstreaker?"

"No." His right hand went limp then flexed.

"Would you like me to talk to Sideswipe?"

"Unreality."

"I know. I know you don't want to believe what happened. We can work through this."

Sunny moaned, low, mournful. His left foretoe trembled. "The wall . . . not so nice. The wall . . . reminded me."

Optimus took up a chair and settled near the table. He struggled through Sunny's agony to decipher what the Autobot warrior tried to say. Optimus perceived all of Sideswipe's downed pretenses; his facade lay in the dust and ashes of a body now torn by an enemy long since retreated.

Optimus searched Sunny's optics and kept his voice even and low, "Streaker . . . why would the wall speak to you? What did it say?"

"Reminded. Old Cybertron. Not good. Not that life-" and the warrior, the once proud, over-confident, dedicated soldier broke into another mournful wail.

Out of habit, Prime considered laying a hand on some area along the platform of scattered body parts and medical life support equipment. The melted exostructure of burned extremities left little room for a caring touch. Streaker's face crumbled from ionic overload. Even his helm half lay in a box of mechanical fluids necessary to keep his meta processor from overheating.

"Sunstreaker," Optimus said gently, "That entire incident was over seven million years ago. Old Cybertron doesn't even exist. The Cave was destroyed during the Brickmaker Rebellion. Our present has nothing to do with that point in history. Do you not think you're better off now than when you worked for The Cave?"

"The wall," Streaker insisted. "The wall said it was unreality."

Optimus struggled through Sunstreaker's agony, seeking answers to his soldier's despondency. Why was Sunny concerned about his past? Optimus would not discount Sunny's and Sideswipe's history before he met them. Forced to do maintenance at a young age, they were tortured and abused by the owner of prestigious entertainment facility. The vile and depraved owner enslaved and starved the two brothers and tortured their sister to death.

The incident made headlines across Cybertron. Sunny and Sides were not the Cave's only victims. Authorities discovered a basement filled floor to ceiling with the bodies of hundreds of Autobot newlings worked to the point of termination.

Optimus found himself wearing down. He struggled to find something to say to bring Sunstreaker out of depression. "Sunny, why would the wall remind you of something like that? Is it saying that you-"

"Ugly. Disgusting."

"It's not true."

"Look." and Sunny wailed again, helpless to express his demoralized state any other way. "It said. It said."

"Sunstreaker, that does not change the fact that you are safe among people who care about you. You do not need to worry about your condition. We are not judging you by how you look. This is temporary."

"More," Streaker insisted, "they go. We go. We com. They come. They go. We go. We come. They come. We do. They do. They do. They do-"

"I know it's frustrating. I know. We all grow tired of fighting Decepticons or Quintessons." The truth bit into him and held him there. It would be so easy to just give up. Optimus cast his optics to the floor and reminded himself again and again it was not him that felt this way. Sunny needed to shut down. He needed to rest.

Sunstreaker's optics flared hot and his detached, useless hand wiggled its fingers; a twitching spider with no control over its limbs.

Prime reached forward and caressed the arch above Sunny's left optic. "Shhh . . . " He projected solace through the touch and thankfully enough, something more than just his sympathy reached for Sunny. That shred of strength helped long enough to cause Sunstreaker to settle down.

Emotional relief flooded his damaged meta processor. Sunny gasped like someone who plunged into cold water. His optics dimmed, his hands calmed. First Aid slipped in bearing a tray covered by a cloth. Prime paid him no mind as he silently bade Sunny to sleep, to rest a while and forget where he was, forget the battle; forget everything but summertime in Fort Max.

Gradually Sunstreaker's twitching ceased. His optics dimmed and the life monitor beside him slowed to a restful rhythm.

First Aid silently set his tray atop a nearby counter and gazed from the sleeping Autobot to their leader. It was not the first time the medic witnessed this unusual talent. Optimus did it more than once for Bluestreak who suffered nightmares all his life. "We're doing as much as we can for him, Prime, but-"

"I know, First Aid. Can you tell me what happened to him?"

"I'm afraid not. We've managed to keep him from shut down. I've considered submitting him to medical stasis. But we don't have anymore equipment. What we have is currently occupied-unless you want us to take Rodimus-"

"Absolutely not." Prime bit his words just then. Had Roddi been there, he would have insisted they use his equipment for Sunstreaker. Optimus stared at the wounded Autobot, worried and guilty. He hated choosing one person over another. He hoped he was not sacrificing Sunstreaker to save Rodimus.

The Autobot medic changed power filters on Sunstreaker and looked pained. "I'll have someone come back to check on him in half an hour. But . . . how are you?"

Optimus tapped Sunstreaker's table with two fingers. Telling First Aid the truth would land him right back in bed. "I'm fine, First Aid," he lied. Optimus knew he'd pay dearly for it later. But at this point, he simply could not afford to do anything less than take care of his people. That also meant visiting Roddi and Optimus suspected THAT visit would land him in medbay.

Prime allotted himself a short break before attending Roddi. Galvatron and Jazz assured him they had everything in hand.

"But 'r you sure you doan want me t' check in on Roddi instead?" Jazz asked. "You don't sound like it's something you otta do right now, Prime. Leastways, not somethin' you got the juice for."

"This really isn't something you can do, Jazz," Prime answered solemnly. Jazz signed off after muttering something about carrying Optimus out on an antigrav flat.

It was close to eleven P.M. Earth Pacific Standard. Those tasks that did not require immediate attention were postponed for the following day. Those Autobots on duty who absolutely had to rest were given five hours to recharge. Optimus was grateful to Jazz and Galvatron; he did not need to worry overmuch about the camp's activity while tending Rodimus. There was no telling how long the visit would take.

So why was he now reluctant to take that first step into the corridor? A powerful sense of dread settled over his shoulders and the Autobot leader regarded his reservations with concern. Certainly the visit with Sunstreaker left him tired.

He was not going to allow himself to admit just how tired he was; Rodimus was far too important. But something was wrong. And something else had gone wrong during his visit with the injured Autobot.

Optimus stood at the entry arch leading into the next corridor, leading to Roddi's room. He knew if Sunstreaker's distress threw him into a wave of uncontrolled emotions, Rodimus would do far more. Prime forced the first step past the archway threshold.

Self-loathing intersected head-on. It hit him hard enough that it brutally forced Optimus to his knees.

Down, traitor!

All his life, Roddi's only purpose was to care for the Autobots. But the Viral insanity turned him into a traitor to his own cause, his own beliefs. That forefront expression lay split and swollen like an open infection. Rodimus could not forgive himself. Optimus could not forgive himself. Murder was never acceptable, especially of a Prime.

Roddi counted his sins; those who died at his command, those who died at his hands. He tallied up the names and their histories, setting them in his soul like a haunted box of poisoned candy. And he was forced to eat that candy one piece at a time, mull over it, mourn over it. Never forget.

Responsibility ate into him; a toxin force-fed by his appointed occupation.

_No one ever asks to be Prime_, Optimus rationalized. It's like being born a king; the child cannot say no, only learn everything taught from balancing a national budget to protocol, to table manners and ability to speak more than one language. And it's not that they choose to be Prime, but that Prime chose them. It's not that they want to do it, but that they can.

_I know this,_ the Autobot leader told himself, _I know because I too tried to walk out on it._

But one never simply walks from the job; not short of assassination.

_Would we not have been better as a species to have just died off? Would there not be peace?_

Roddi's voice intervened along that point: "_Isn't that what the Paratrons think? Isn't that what they say?"_

Optimus fought for emotional control. He searched his own history for rationales to balance the guilt and grief. So many people died in the name of freedom.

Stop.

Why must this even be an issue? Why mourn for those who believed in what they died for? After all, did he regret running in the line of fire?

No.

Did he ever wish he had not risked life and limb so that someone else could live to see the next day?

Not for a microsecond.

Naturally he was Prime; it was his duty to put his life on the line. But just because no one else held his office did not exclude them from the same convictions. Why should he be so distinct?

Yet . . . yet, yet, yet, he was guilty of murder. He was guilty of chaos and destruction wrought by such means as only he could conjure atrocities. His actions were not justified by the Matrix, but magnified.

Magnus should have . . . and did not. Why? Why did he not assassinate Optimus and Rodimus? Would it have not been logical to eliminate a dire threat rather than tempt fate and hope the incident never happened again?

Should Optimus not go either to Jazz or Galvatron right now and order them to end it for him? What of Rodimus?

What of Rodimus, indeed.

Wait.

Had he not been through this line of thought before?

That wasn't the point!!

He was guilty. Face your guilt! Take your medicine! Wallow on the floor and beg for mercy. Count the lives wasted. Recall the names lost. Recite their history and mourn their sacrifice.

And add Sun to it.

It took Optimus a moment before he noticed the mistake in conclusion.

What?

Pause. Uncertainty came to him.

Add Sun to it.

Still on his knees in the corridor, several doors away from Roddi, Optimus' thoughts cleared in light of the strange thought.

"The sun?" he said aloud. "What?"

Void's faceless visage dropped upside down in front of Prime's. Optimus skittered off his knees, disgusted and horrified simultaneously. He lifted his optics toward the ceiling, finding the rest of the Virus hanging upside down like an alien spider.

"Damn you!" Prime hissed.

SSSSUUNNNN. SSSSSS . . . NNNNNN. . . .SPACE CONFUSING. CONFUSING. TRICKY DECEPTION. Void came closer. It walked along the ceiling, tapping against metal plates and sent surges down Prime's infastructural rod. Nothing that large should have that ability.

TRICKY, Void insisted.

"Not my problem," Prime answered finally.

REGRET FOUND YOU . . . OPTIMUS PRIME. EASILY INFILTRATED. REGRET LIFE. ALL ELSE DIES. REGRET LIFE. ALL CHANGES COME. REGRET ANOTHER DEATH. REGRET INABILITY. REGRET INSTABILITY. REGRET LOST HOME. REGRET FIVE MILLION YEARS. PRIME REGRETS.

Optimus seethed with dire self recrimination. He lowered his guard so that the Virus found a way to manipulate him, to turn his internal war against himself.

EXPLAIN SUN.

Still angry over his weakness, Optimus narrowed his optics at the Virus and could not decide if he wanted to tell it off or give it the silent treatment.

He opted for the second solution. Void hated being ignored, but at least the Virus never attacked because it could not get answers. Prime picked himself up and gave the Virus a wide berth round the corridor. He pressed forward, heavy-hearted, disgusted and seething at the same time. This wasn't the right frame of mind with which he should visit Roddi. After all, whatever he was going through echoed through the Matrix.

Damn.

EXPLAIN SUN. Void insisted.

Optimus paused and laid a hand on the wall to steady himself. Not for the sake of the annoying Virus, but because of a flash-memory; something about a motorcycle, a doll and a baby. But Optimus could not quite catch it all. Roddi slipped from one bad memory to a memory-nightmare then shot back; his memories and emotions tangled with Optimus'.

A bad combination.

EXPLAIN SUN. TALK SUN.

Prime finally turned to the Virus, annoyed. "Your logic is irrational. Go away!" He pushed onward while his mind swung from contentment to disgust to rage and spiraled into loneliness.

Void tapped alongside the Autobot leader, Its head tilted in Optimus' direction. Its long square tail snaked in and curled back. SSSSSUUUUUNNNN. SSSSUUUUNNN.

Prime's optics flared, "Get LOST!" he stood at the doorway to Roddi's room and felt like a diver, unsure if he had enough oxygen in his blood.

Void clacked its teeth, staring at the uncooperative host. Finally it chose to leave, its body spread out, shifted into a flat, two-dimensional image and slipped into the crevice floor panels.

Intense depression soaked into Optimus' mind so that he sank at the doorpost, unable to enter the room. He tried to see Roddi lying on his flat, but the room stood too dark for normal vision. Certainly Optimus could have shifted to other frequencies . . . but why bother?

He allowed the darkness to swallow his sight and take hold of his mind; it reflected his own morale. _Don't leave me,_ he silently begged. But how could he ask such a thing? Roddi had a right to decide for himself. If he wanted to die, Optimus was not entitled to stop him.

_Go down fighting. Die an honorable death. The Autobots were finished, anyway. History repeated itself. He failed to prevent it._

Overwhelmed, Optimus lay on the floor, shuddering with tears. Roddi relived the same fate as those he led in the parallel universe. He struggled to keep things together as they came apart underneath him. Certainly things weren't perfect on Earth, but it was a place and time that Roddi believed gave him a second chance. But exile here, on Cratis, shoved him into the same abusive reality from which he once recovered.

It was cruel.

Roddi lay in somber dark; the silence foretold of a death not yet taken place. His life signs fluctuated between active and near-death. Agony turned his color pallid.

Optimus lay on the floor, now inside the dark, silent room. How much fighting does it take to chose between living and giving up? Optimus never considered it; he simply learned how to find a reason and moved on.

_He kicked the 'con off, punched his hand into the 'con's vulnerable chassis and ruthlessly yanked out circuits, wires, spurting lines. Roddi reveled in the shower of life fluids as they painted his arm. _

_Void clacked its teeth with excitement. More! More! "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT, DECETRON?!" Roddi-Void used a voice not his own. Roddi's laser core channeled poisons throughout his system. They eked into his mind and he laughed while his soul vomited toxins. He screamed with all his might: "**I CAN GIVE IT TO YOU!!**"_

"_Rodimus,"_ Optimus weakly whispered. He'd been in situations where everything seemed so bleak that he did not even think he'd live to see the next day. He tried to reach for his friend, his partner, his _vyrestix_; the other part of himself.

But Roddi's spark might as well be light years away. Optimus felt nothing and everything from him. Did he have any strength, any at all, with which he could push himself off the floor? Anything, any shred would be helpful. He searched, but Optimus only found more despair.

_Rodimus assaulted Decetron. The Decepticon leader's weapon fired and missed. Rodimus felt the discharged heat. He tried to scrape Decetron's optics off his face. Rodimus felt light, as though he were floating in the air. It felt good. It felt really good and he laughed. He laughed as he brought his enemy down._

_A monster's dark maw opened for them and Rodimus was swallowed whole. _

_Oh what a fitting end! There, see? There was a way to die and take one's enemy with you! See? Rodimus knew he finally lost himself to the Virus; the damned thing ate him alive. But at least Decetron went with him. Here you go, you bastard, now you know MY pain. Now you know what it's like to be fed upon! Enjoy your last minute!_

Nothing more. No consciousness, no memories. Roddi knew he still lived. But he did whatever it took to deny it. If he were still alive, he'd have to add Decetron's murder to the list.

Optimus knew Decetron wasn't dead. The Autobots did not find his body-and the clean-up crew headed by Repugnus searched the canyon for several hours. No results. Decetron roamed free. Survival mocked Roddi's efforts to take him to the Pitt.

That failure was bluntly inexcusable and Rodimus did not think himself worthy of forgiveness.

Roddi's death would leave a terrible emptiness in him, something Prime did not think even Rusti could fill.

The Autobot leader forced himself on his back. He lay a while, staring at the ceiling, all but invisible in the darkness. Where were they to go from this point? How were they ever going to deal with the Virus if they could not find a way to control it? Weakly he sat up, arms about his knees. The answer just wasn't as simple as creating a new blocking chip; he and Roddi needed to come up with their own mental defenses.

Easier said than done when Rodimus and he were distracted with responsibility for so many people. Many of those weren't even Autobots, and not all of them were of adult age.

"I wish I knew what to do, Roddi," Prime mourned out loud. "We do no one any good if we cannot save ourselves. But I don't have any answers. If we can't reach Mechlatex, if we can't get there . . . I do not know what else is to be done."

Optimus forced himself up, but it was a slow, cumbersome move. He staggered and steadied himself at the foot end of Roddi's flat. So much effort just to get up and now Prime realized he had to make as much an effort to remain standing.

Optimus conceded he could do nothing for Roddi. He did not know what went through his head when he decided to see his friend. The Senior Prime did not know why he expected to fix whatever transgressions troubled Roddi. Optimus considered Roddi's problems his problems, too. But the truth stripped his perceptions; he had no solutions.

That slice of unfair realization drained the senior Prime further and if he felt this exhausted facing the disconcerted reality, how was Roddi dealing with it?

He was not.

And Roddi's despair slowly dragged Optimus toward a part of his conscious self he knew he did not want to go. There lay a deadness in his spark; a vacancy where Void frolicked in depraved mirth.

Lie down and cease to exist.

And if not, then just lie down.

No more work.

No more worry.

Lie down.

Lie still.

"Roddi," Optimus' soft deep voice sounded loud in the silence. "Rodimus, I'm going to rest. I need to rest. I'll not be long. I will come back." he reached and gently stroked the V-area at Roddi's neck; the one area left undamaged.

Prime turned just slightly when Darkness and Void seeped through the crevices from the room's bleakest corner. Prime faced it, sensing a pleased smile across its faceless countenance. Optimus stood squarely between it and Rodimus.

Void breathed upon the Senior Prime; a warm, scentless breath bespeaking of surrealism. TRICKY DECEPTION. CONFUSION.

"I already told you, I am not concerned about your problems." Optimus answered. "Leave Rodimus be."

CONFUSION. THE SPACE HELD. THE . . . SPACE, CONFUSING.

It dawned on Optimus that Void was trying to communicate something it had no vocabulary for. It stepped closer and Prime wanted to withdraw but he refused to leave Roddi.

Void came face to face and barred its deadly teeth. Optimus prepared for pain. He laid a hand on Roddi's injured arm.

Void hesitated then slowly retracted its teeth. Its Autobot prey watched while the Virus backed off, its pinpoint legs tapped the metal flooring. It hissed. SAME . . . NOT APPEALING. SAME AS THAT. DISRUPTIVE.

"What are you talking about?" Prime was not asking

Void directly. He could not understand its behavior. The Virus was unpredictable, no longer just feeding; it acknowledged environment.

Void's face lashed out. Its teeth snapped with a metal clang and came breath-close to taking a chunk off Prime's chest. Prime flinched slightly, too exhausted to exert a stronger reaction.

Void slowly retracted its head, slow as a snail. It hissed and left Optimus wondering if that wasn't laughter. The Virus slipped into the dark, it relapsed from physical form.

Optimus found a chair and all but collapsed. What the Pitt were they going to do about that thing? How could they control it until they reached Mechlatex?

No answer came; nothing to simplify the situation.

Prime struggled against sleep. He hoped for signs of even the shallowest hint that Roddi was coming back from his subconscious journey.

Nothing happened.

Optimus sat and Roddi lay. The silent world between them stood still; an eye in the hurricane of time.

At one point Trinket entered to check Roddi's vitals. Distantly Optimus heard her voice but he did not think she spoke to him. She moved as if her form phased; a blurred image in the progression of time.

Optimus was vaguely aware she scanned him. Her voice bounced in his head. He heard but did not comprehend. She was naught more than a shadow life form to him right now.

Rodimus sat up as if he pretended to be injured. His optics made a liar of the smile he forced on. The Autobot leader was in a lot of pain.

Optimus figured he dreamed, asleep at Roddi's side. Yes, sleep; dreams and twisted visions, nightmares so real. Rodimus could not be sitting up. But there he sat, staring accusingly. His damaged optics stared at and through Optimus. His cracked armor seeped fluids.

"I danced with the devil and lost."

"I know," Optimus replied.

"Where is the sanity and fairness of it? I've already lived one life where all the Autobots perished."

"There is no fairness to it, Roddi."

His gaze drifted. The room faded, lost to the evils of a waking dream. Optimus watched his co-bearer, his _vyrestix_. _I wasn't supposed to come back_, he thought. _How did Averas Dalur ever manage to bring me back to life_?

Roddi's voice countered Optimus' question: "Why didn't you ask him when you had the chance?"

I don't know. I was confused. The only thing that kept me going was the urgency of the moment. The plague, you, everyone else."

Rodimus shifted so that he sat on his hands and knees. A soft red glow illuminated his body. "What if I chose to stay here, away from the madness, away from the pain? Would you follow me?"

Optimus did not answer right away. He studied Rodimus and the situation from as many angles as he could conjure.

The inhibitor chip was broken.

Void grew braver, smarter and more powerful.

The Autobots were running for their lives.

The Earth was now Quintesson territory.

Rusti . . .

Prime supposed Galvatron would kick his aft for giving up.

Magnus, however, might take it all under the guise of jurisprudence. Most likely he would not tolerate another 'episode' such as they suffered two years ago.

"Let me ask you this, Rodimus," Prime returned carefully, "what would the Optimus Prime of your parallel universe say or do?"

Rodimus' face turned ugly with rage. "You are NOT him. There is not one ounce of kindness or communication that I do not have to take from you. You give _nothing_ freely."

The same old argument. Prime wanted to say something, but he had no defense. He rose from the chair and straddled the table before Roddi, staring him in the face. "I don't know what to tell you-"

With a feral growl, Rodimus attacked him. They crashed on the floor in a clamor and wrestled until Roddi pinned him at the shoulder, his feet over Prime's thighs.

"What is the matter with you?! You're all closed off, acting as if you'd rather turn your back on everything and everyone! Magnus can't talk to you anymore! Jazz used to be one of your most trusted people and _me_, I am your equal and you shut me out! And then Rusti-good Primus, a Human child-you open up to her as if-"

"Rusti doesn't hurt," Prime snarled. He rolled, flipping Rodimus to the floor. And Rodimus would have jumped up, but he wasn't quite fast enough. They wrestled again, pushing for domination.

Optimus got the upper hand this time, his palms flat on Roddi's spoiler, knees on Prime's arms. "You and everyone else demand everything from me. My time, my attention, my approval, my guidance, my council, my opinion, my strength-my LIFE! When does it stop? The only thing Rusti has asked of me is to share an afternoon with her over tea cups and stuffed animals."

Optimus released Rodimus with a jerk and sat hard on the floor. "I did not even have to decide what kind of tea we had." he oxidated heavily, struggling for self control.

Rodimus sat up. His cold optics did not waver. "What old wounds still fester with the infection of regret and self loathing? I look in the mirror and see someone who should have never survived his own people. I am all that is left of a whole species. And sometimes I hate myself for it. But you . . . you _fear_ they see a dead mech among them; a walking corpse. How close am I to the mark? Do you hate me for Hot Rod's death? Do you still mourn for him?"

Optimus hesitated, measuring his answer against the moment. Clarity of thought was not exactly a part of the moment. He could not tell whether the moment with Rodimus was real, or that they were connecting on another level-or Primus forbid-the moment was Viral-induced.

Optimus Prime stared at Rodimus Prime. He tried to read into every nuance, every squared inch of the Autobot leader's physical language. But even Rodimus' optics failed to reveal the truth about their state of mind. "How can I trust you with an answer so personal when I cannot trust the solidity of the moment? Am I speaking with Rodimus or am I dancing to the bedlam music produced by an alien life form?

"You will dance. Then you will die. That is the way of things." Roddi's face held no expression. His optics turned down; their light drowned.

"Why do you ask me questions for which I have no answers? Or why do you ask me of things I will privilege to no one at all? You keep demanding things of me that I either do not have or could not surrender. You said you looked into the mirror. At least you _looked_ it's more than what I can do. I am afraid that if I looked, there would be nothing more than a shadow-image."

Prime leaned forward to whisper in Roddi's audio: "I know that all you ever experienced in your other life was death. And if death is all we have left, then we are obligated to take the Virus with us."

Roddi smiled but his optics did not. "You're assuming the Virus is not deathless. You assume it is a creature of limited feats and abilities. But you failed to understand that it feeds and grows like a suckling from its progenitor's breast. It _learns._ And as it learns, it splits a new personality-type. They all study you. They can mimic and reflect. They can copy and parrot so that eventually you will think your mind is yours but in truth, the Virus is what's thinking _for_ you."

Optimus turned, annoyed. "Your mind game is ineffectual. You may know much. You watch but only to entrap, obfuscate and confuse. But your life span is not that of a Transformer. And you may speak with Roddi's voice, but I know the difference. And on my vyrestix's behalf, I will educate you about your own machinations. Your activities will eventuate in the death of the Matrix. And the Matrix will take you with it. Sparkless, soulless you will completely cease to exist. Perhaps it would be prudent to leave the Matrix before you lose what life you have right now."

Void-Rodimus slapped the floor and hissed inward. "Now who's playing games?"

Optimus flashed his optics. "Now there's a new aspect for you, Void. You can dish it, but you won't take your own medicine. But what I can't understand is how you can switch between personalities-when you seem animalistic at one point, then sentient at another. Do you have a mind, or don't you?"

Roddi got to his knees, laid his hands on either side of Optimus' helm, and drew their faces close. He whispered, "Now where's the fun in understanding? Every bit you give; that much more I own. I have your personality. I took the rationality. I stole the volition. I take you're history, your sense of time and reality. I take your pleasure, drink your suffering. _The sweetest of things_."

Optimus trembled under Rodimus' light grip. Small electrical currently traveled either side of his head. They weren't painful but they indicated the extent of Void's present control over Rodimus.

Optimus' optics dimmed with grief. The awkward and confusing conversation did not come entirely from Rodimus. Void used his vocabulary, his paradigm, even his deepest thoughts. But the Virus still did not understand the relationship between people, causes and conditions. "Roddi," Prime whispered. "If you choose to go, if you decide to die, I promise I will keep going as long as I can. If you want to go, I will not be angry. I will not be angry."

No movement. No sound. Optimus only guessed the struggle between Rodimus and Void.

_I could die right here._

ILLOGICAL.

_I am a life form, free to choose._

YOU CHOSE NOT YOUR BEGINNING. YOU, NO CHOICE FOR END.

_You cannot say._

TAKE EVERYTHING.

_Yes. I could._

Void hissed. SHOULD. CANNOT.

It won.

But Void did not understand _why_ it won.

It broke Roddi's heart and he slowly lowered his hands from Optimus' face. He turned away entirely, his demeanor now downcast. "No, he moaned, weary and ashamed, "You'd .. . you'd die of a broken heart."

Wasn't that what Jasmine Goodwin said?

Time relapsed. The game ended. Void won the round, but not in the logic paradigm. It won only because it mimicked something it heard, but heard wrong. Yes, Roddi _could_ have died, but _shouldn't_. Void unknowingly reversed the words, speaking a greater truth: Rodimus _should_ die, but _can't_ by principle.

Optimus did not know at what point he retook the chair. He did not remember getting off the floor.

And maybe he never left the chair.

And maybe Roddi never woke to start with.

Optimus watched Rodimus lie down. His form colors dimmed and his optics fell to a normal color.

A high-pitched alarm sounded.

Optimus sat up, drowsy, weak and confused.

The doors hissed apart and First Aid and Trinket ran in. Overhead lights shot on, blinding and confusing Prime even more.

First Aid glanced in his direction and spoke but Optimus did not hear it. His optics drifted from the medic to Rodimus. Trinket opened Roddi's chestplate and inserted . . .

Powerful, sturdy arms wrapped about the Senior Prime and dragged him from Roddi. Optimus did not resist. Through optics beset with static, he watched First Aid, Trinket and two aids move and speak over one another.

Roddi's body jumped with a jolt. Prime felt nothing. The world revolved like a fuzzy dream. Void returned, sliding from a crevice in the floor, two-dimensional and wispy. It stood beside Optimus and watched First Aid struggle to keep Rodimus alive.

Prime glanced at the Virus, still aware of someone else's arms around his upper body. "Why are you willing to kill Rodimus first? Why did you choose to take him before me?"

Void hissed. A long black tongue slipped between its teeth. It curled slowly before slinking back. "DEATH CONSIDERED INCONSIDERATE. THIS ONE TOO SWEET FOR WASTE."

Void faced Prime and expanded its form. It tilted its faceless head one way then another. THAT HAS DIMINISHED."

"What has diminished? You're not making sense."

The Virus lifted its head; its neck stretched above Optimus Prime. He did not see as Void stared at Titanium. Completely oblivious to Void's presence or face-to-face scrutiny, Titanium watched First Aid and Trinket reroute Roddi's systemic temperature rectifiers.

Optimus despaired. Had Void lost interest in him? Was it seeking new and fresh prey? Helplessness weighed heavily on Prime's spark. His depression regained Void's attention and the Virus' head lowered, facing Prime's optics.

"If you allow Rodimus to stay alive, I will do whatever you wish. I will give you whatever you want."

It hissed, "YOU GIVE NOTHING . . . OPTIMUS PRIME. I TAKE."

Void licked him alongside the face and Prime lost all his strength. His knees collapsed, forcing Titanium to lower him. The moment Optimus touched the floor Void sank its teeth into his neck and Optimus blacked out.

**Pt 8: Morning Side**

" . . . had to sedate First Aid. He said he kept yelling for you to move away. Trinket said both you and Rodimus looked like you were awake and aware. Titanium was asked to pull you away. I wanted to help, but they don't consider me trustworthy yet."

The Autobot leader finally focused on Galvatron sitting beside him. Doublecross stood behind the Decepticon; her weapon drawn and charged.

"First Aid swears you're to have only chaperoned visits with Rodimus from now on."

Prime rolled his head to the right, contacting Galvatron's optics. "How long . . . how long was I with Rodimus?"

The Decepticon hesitated. "Erm . . . four days, Prime. Trinket stepped in twice a day. She complained you never responded to a word she said."

"Twice a day? I only saw her once."

Galvatron slowly leaned over and touched Prime's helm along the left side. "You have burn marks on your chest plate and along the side of your head. There are deep puncture wounds along your neck."

Prime tried not to wince in front of Doublecross. "I . . . had a strange conversation with the Virus."

Galvatron looked dubious but said nothing. He settled back, arms crossed. "Does the Virus make it a habit to allow itself to be seen?"

"Not a habit, but it does happen on occasion."

"Do you recall anything it said to you, Prime?"

Optimus reflected but his mind was on Rodimus. "The Virus is not entirely intelligent, Galvatron. It's aware of me and Roddi. It's also aware of Rusti. But it does not seem interested in anyone else . . . at least until . . . was that Titanium, you said, that helped me?"

"Yes."

"It stared at Titanium. And I tried to draw its attention back to me. That's when Void . . ." Optimus could not finish. He turned away then turned back. "Rodimus?"

"Still fighting but improving. He had a systemic temperate influx. It uh, sent him into a neural crash."

Prime stared at moment, distressed. "Void wasn't lying when it said it had nothing to do with Rodimus dying."

"What did it say?"

"It -I can't give you exact syntax. It's worse than broken Autobot because it understands only most-"

"Prime," Galvatron interjected, "Optimus, the very fact the Virus communicates at _all_ means it's not just a virus. What do you know about it?"

"Not much. Nothing that "Roddi and I haven't been able to deduce ourselves. It uses limited vocabulary. And sometimes it accesses our vocabulary, but its language is choppy. And it does not seem to be aware of its surroundings. It can be in the Matrix or outside it and behave the same way." Prime's demeanor changed upon realizing a memory. "There was one very unusual thing, Galvatron. Something it's never done before. It was going to attack me, then hesitated, saying something about it being disrupted. I don't understand. It was unusual for the Virus to withdraw an attack."

"Sounds like it sensed something from or about you, Prime."

Optimus sat up. Exhaustion bent his frame. "It's unpredictable. Maddening. It can be intelligent but then purely instinctive-as if it were a multi-faceted creature that is not quite in cohesion."

Galvatron narrowed his optics. "Like different parts of a program that is not quite put together?"

"Precisely."

"That might be advantageous, Prime. If we can find a way to rebuff it or contain it before it realizes all aspects of its own existence, we might be able to purge it."

"There is a drawback: I don't know how much of Rodimus it has taken over."

"What of yourself?"

Optimus could not answer that.

Galvatron thought it through. He sat in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, his head bowed. The Decepticon sat still as a dead summer breeze. Only his optics indicated his mind at work as they dimmed, lit and flashed from time to time.

Doublecross kept her mouth shut and simply watched. Silence dominated the room. Optimus dozed and startled, fighting much needed sleep. Two hours slipped away before Optimus Prime about succumbed to shutdown.

Galvatron stirred and lifted his head. "Could there be a possibility, however remote, that the Virus may graft itself as a permanent part of your personality?"

Prime's shoulders dropped just slightly. That was not a possibility he wanted to discuss, especially in front of Crossy. "I honestly had not thought about it."

Optimus considered Void's behavior. Somehow it acted more logical, more calculating yet not like himself or Roddi at all. Maybe it changed because of the original inhibitor chips first designed by Cody Greydon. Void was certainly capable of adapting. Optimus wondered how far it was willing to take things, to what level and over what period of time.

It was spooky that now the Virus acknowledged the existence of other people. Yet it had never targeted them until recently.

Optimus was not blind to the evils of the decisions that lay ahead of them. As events and situations worsened, Optimus foresaw himself facing one of two decisions: kill Rodimus, destroy the Matrix and commit suicide or he could allow the situation to reach the point where Magnus would be forced to kill them.

Either way, it meant genocide for his people.

But Galvatron's question brought his attention to a potential crisis: one with life-long results and that brought Optimus back to his original consideration: repair the Matrix or die from infection and take the Virus-and the Matrix-with him.

Galvatron stood and pushed his chair away. "Get rest. We've made progress on three other ships."

"I'm . . . I need to see Rusti."

Galvatron's glare switched from Prime to Doublecross. "He does this all the time, doesn't he?" The Decepticon watched her nod with a shrug. His optics shot back to Prime. "You stay in one place today or I'll inform _someone_ of your gross self-negligence."

Prime forced a weary smile. His concern was for Roddi, though he suspected Rusti was not in such good health, either.

Dr. Zornoy warned Optimus to stay quiet when he entered Rusti's little room. She lay in a dimly lit corner of the Spiral Star, isolated from the hustle and chaos down the corridor. Rusti rested as comfortably as they could make her. They kept her on a drip feed of glucose, pain killers and a light sedative. She also required a slow, fresh infusion of blood. Her wounded shoulder craved redressing several times a day. The sonic blade Rumble stabbed her with introduced an anticoagulant.

Zornoy could not deduce what chemicals laced the Decepticon blade. Nor could he or Arcana conclude what the same blade might do to Transformer physiology. Zornoy and Arcana also debated whether or not to bind her left side. The crushed ribs were not exactly life-threatening, but eventually, the bone fragments would complicate matters.

In spite of her shallow breath, Rusti seemed at peace, easing Prime's anxiety. He stepped back out and knelt before Zornoy. "What happened?"

"Knife stab in the chest. Five shattered ribs. Concussion. According to Arcana, she was slapped around pretty hard. Whatever suit she was wearing saved her life. Not perfectly, but good enough. At least the concussion she sustained was fairly mild and she's more or less over that." Zornoy noticed pain and sadness in the Autobot's optics and took on a more positive approach: "I think she'll pull though fine. But it'll be a while. I have six to nine patients in critical condition and only two working organic refabricators."

It took a moment for all the information to sink in. Optimus decided if Dr. Zornoy believed his love would be alright, he would cling to that hope, too. He returned to Rusti's room and settled on the floor close to her bedside. The quiet calmed him and the Autobot leader realized this was exactly what he needed. He felt guilty, however. There were so many responsibilities, so much needing to be done. But everyone from Arcee to Dr. Zornoy assured Optimus Prime things would be fine for at least six hours. With a last look to the girl he missed so much, Prime lay down and allowed his mind to dream.

Like a little kid channel surfing or playing with a radio dial, Rusti's dreams switched tumultuously from scene to event. Voices clamored in her head, refusing civility in volume. Outside, her wounded body lay still as death but her mind rushed with the noise of a rock concert.

Then somewhere, somehow, an image and a voice harnessed it. Sights and sounds of memories, thoughts and impressions drained into the tight control of once source.

And _SHE_ greeted Rusti with a warm, motherly smile.

"_Tell me if that isn't better."_

Rusti stood in the center of an alien garden. Plants made of minerals, crystals and metal sprouted and blossomed from every corner. A tiny stream tinkled from the left. It tumbled into a quiet pond bordered by red crystal. The young woman found herself dressed in her own favorite outfit of a ruffled white blouse and blue jeans.

Weird, but cool.

"Is the setting indecorous and uncomfortable for you?"

Rusti gazed back. The lady was not quite Human. "Uh. I-I was just trying to figure out if this was real or not. I was on a ship and uh-"

"It is real, Rusti."

"But this, this can't be my body. I got attacked by a Decepticon." she laid a hand on the ribs Rumble crushed and found not so much as a bruise. She ruffled past her white blouse until the lady laid a hand on her. Their eyes met and Rusti froze, confused.

"Rusti, reality is based on perception. Action and reaction are the elements with which we exist in an environment. I have acted by touch, you have reacted by looking at me. You really are here."

"Okay." Rusti accepted. "And where is-" The answer slammed into her so fast her blood pressure dropped. "No." she lost her breath. "I am NOT. I cannot be in the Matrix!"

The lady smiled brightly.

Rusti was not impressed. "Don't you have an Autobot leader to pick on?"

Part of the metal ground rose then panned into a curved shape on which the lady sat. She set one leg over the other, her eyes-her grey eyes-never left Rusti. You are dying. That sweet Doctor Zornoy doesn't know it yet."

Rusti's cheeks flushed before her body turned cold. She unconsciously took a step back and lost her balance. She dropped into a "chair' and stared at the feminine persona of the Matrix. "Oh." Rusti tore her eyes away and stared at a tiny metal bug. "I'm dying? I thought that . . . Um." The thought died away and what replaced it was a thought for Optimus. "Oh! I won't get to see Optimus again, will I? Can you tell me if he'll be okay?

"If you die?" the Matrix's face turned serious. "No. Neither Rodimus nor he."

"But I can't stop from dying!" Rusti leaned over, distraught. You brought me here to tell me this? Are you crazy?"

"Rusti," she too leaned forward, hands clasped. "I came to help."

Exasperated, Rusti wanted to tune her out. But the lady insisted on being heard: she touched Rusti's knee but the girl could not look her in the eye.

"Rusti, why do you fear me?"

Now she met face-on. "Do I look like a Prime to you? I know what you're capable of doing. I know your power and I know you can channel it through me. But I am a Human and in spite of my age, I still just feel like a little girl! Don't you think that's dangerous? And . . . and-"

"And yet," the Matrix added, "I reside within you. Why . . . in your terms, does it freak you out?"

Just the way the Matrix spoke unsettled Rusti so that she stared, dumbfounded. "Uh, Humans are-we're sort of a 'loner-species'. Uh-" Rusti wanted to tag a pronoun for the Matrix at the end of her sentence when she realized there was no name to use. Her face distorted with confusion. "Uh, things living in us, well, for the most part, that's like parasites, tumors, microscopic bugs that crawl-"

"But you also carry offspring." the lady countered.

Rusti lined her lips. "Uh," (name? Name?) "Matrix, that's different. That's what we call propagation, not carrying an alien intellect in your head-"

"Yet there are religions among your kind that believe they are indwelt by their god. Why would I be any different? You do not think for me, Rusti. I do not think for you."

Again Rusti struggled for a pronoun. "Geeze, do you have a _name_ or something or do you just go by 'Matrix'?"

She remained ever serious. "The Matrix is the name of the physical object through which I manifest myself and my power. And it fascinates me that you require a name when most Autobots never think that I might have one."

"It's not their fault. They don't perceive you as a personality-and why did you come to me?"

She stared at Rusti, silent and calm.

Rusti squirmed under the Matrix's scrutiny. "What is your name?" she repeatedi n quieter tones.

"Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn."

Rusti lost all expression. "I will _never_ be able to pronounced that."

The lady laughed softly and Rusti wondered if she was where Optimus got his laughter. "The Wanakian Ambassador once said the very same thing!"

Rusti half-smiled but upon hearing "Wanakian Ambassador', the smile died, replaced by amazement. "You know Koontah?"

"Certainly. And I knew you the day you first came to us, to the Living City."

"Fort Max-er-Fortress Maximus?"

"I have another name for him, but yes."

Before she could answer or think of an answer, an electric shock coursed through Rusti's head and everything blacked out.

A voice, musical, sweet and familiar, called to her. Rusti opened her eyes and found her naked feet planted on springy green grass. A broad, clean river flowed soundlessly before her. A bridge of delicate gold stretched over the quiet water. Tall decorative lamp posts stood dutifully at either end. At the other side of the bridge great trees stretched up and out. Sequoia, elm, white oak and weeping fir blocked all visual clues as to what else may lay at the other side.

Rusti gazed to the right then the left. No trees nor other land marks resided on her side of the river. And when she turned completely around, a black expanse faced her as long and tall as her eye could see. It meant the only way was forward.

She touched the rail and realized the bridge glowed from within. She stared, amazed, then stepped forward. Everything felt real, comfortable, as if she had come home to a home she had longed for all her life.

Turning toward her goal, Rusti spotted a familiar figure and she ran to embrace her grandmother.

Carly hugged her closely, saying nothing at first. Rusti felt her grandmother's life force radiate strong as blinding light. Her face glowed with a supernatural radiance the likes Rusti had never seen. Carly cupped her hands about her granddaughter's face and stared into Rusti's soul.

"It just isn't time for you to be here yet, Sugar."

"What?"

Carly kissed her brow. "I love you. And I'm waiting for you. But it's not your time. Your work isn't finished."

Rusti glanced back to the mammoth black wall. But now a immense valley stretched miles and miles into a shrouding white-grey mist. "But, where is the wall, how do I find my way back?" She gazed at her grandmother who stared at the tundra.

Carly said nothing before gazing at her progeny."I can't help you, Sugar. I'm sorry. You will have to find your way back."

_"I will help her_," Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn's voice came from Rusti's end of the bridge.

The young woman greeted her with confusion. The Matrix persona did not look feminine now, but a figure of blue fire. A crown of hematite sat upon the brow and topaz eyes welcomed Rusti with ease.

Carly laid a hand on Rusti's shoulder and the young woman gave her all her attention. "Hon, you can either try to cross the valley on your own and hope to find your way back or you can accept help from Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn. But there is a price for assistance: you may not be entirely yourself for a while. You will be two people."

Rusti cast her gaze upon the extensive Valley. She could be lost for weeks, months, maybe years. Making her choice, she hugged Carly one last time and refused to say good-bye. She hoped to see Carly again someday. Rusti stood before the fiery persona and gathered her courage.

"Please help me," she asked. "I know I will get lost."

_"You will never be lost again."_

Rusti came to life pushing her way through dreams. Her eyes opened and her first reaction was to draw a deep breath but that came at an incredible price. Pain struck her entire left side. LIE STILL.

A great shape moved amid the shadows. A gentle, dear voice filled the air: "There are approximately fifty-two point seven freckles on the back of your left hand, twenty-three on the right and one hundred seven point two across your nose and cheeks."

Tears burned her dry eyes and nose.

"Oh no," Prime moaned softly, "I thought coming here would make you smile. It's Rodimus' idea, wasn't it? He told you to cry to make me feel guilty."

"Optimus!" Rusti's voice squeaked with tears. "Please tell me you're here for real! Please don't be another illusion! Ohmigod I miss you so much!" she laid her right hand over her face. Crying hurt. Breathing hurt. Living hurt.

He neared his face to her so she could touch him. Rusti controlled her tears and breathed shallow. She emotionally embraced his presence; strong but gentle.

It really was him.

She tried to swallow with a dry mouth. "When Strike Back caught up with us in the Dancing Siren, we were with Ambassador Koontah. I thought-I hoped you'd be on the Siren. But you weren't. And Roddi's been awful sick and we've-I just want to go home. Where were you?"

Prime found an oversized tissue and handed it to her. He did not want to talk. She needed her strength before he told her everything. _I love you_, he thought to himself. How could he consider suicide and leave her? How could he have thought about going to Mechlatex alone?

Certainly he was not thinking how she might feel about it. "I don't know where to begin to tell you-I want you to get well."

Rusti roved her eyes to the nearby wall and her frame moved just the wrong way and the wound in her chest screamed. Rusti winced and stopped breathing a moment. All the pain began to frustrate her. "Optimus," she growled, "I want you to admit to me that going to Mars was a bad idea."

Prime thought about Galvatron and bowed his head fractionally. "Going to Mars was a bad idea."

She dismissed his words, reading his body language. "What happened on Mars, Optimus?"

"A great deal more than I can tell in ten minutes."

She could not study him closely in the dim light. They kept all sleeping quarters dark to preserve energy and it frustrated Rusti that she could not see her love very clearly. She forced a shallow but exasperated sigh. "You'll tell me later, won't you?"

"That and so much more. I'm glad to be here, to finally be with you again."

That caused her to smile and Optimus Prime held that image. She was in pain and like he, exhausted. But she smiled. "Rusti," he said, "I found a report that said you threw a tantrum and jumped into the campfire. What were you thinking?"

She had to stop and think. Rusti could not remember when the event happened. Then it dawned on her: "oh, yeah." she grimaced. "I-this planet sux, Optimus-"

"Rusti-"

"I mean the air STINKS-"

"You're evading the-"

"The electric storms suck-"

"-question entirely-"

"-and _everyone_ is pissed _all_ the time."

"-and yes, I know this is a miserable place."

"Then why the _hell_ did you-WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" she winced again, moving when her wounded chest told her not to.

"About the Quintessons." Prime answered immediately "There are airborne parasites on Cratis that eat Quintessons for lunch and the electromagnetic fields disrupt their brainwave patterns."

"That's not what I heard. Magnus and the Dinobots had to rescue Titanium and one of the ships in a canyon and they found a laboratory. And yes, I did throw a tantrum and Dr. Arcana had to drag me away-kicking and screaming-and sedate me."

Prime stared at her, taken back. "They sedated you? Really? Heh."

"It's NOT funny," she snarled.

"Yes it is-"

"I love you," she quickly added.

Optimus' lasercore surged. "Say it again," he whispered.

"I love you," she repeated in a whisper and she said it again. He neared her just to be close. She kissed him with dry lips. But Optimus felt the sensation all over.

"I love you, Rusti. I wish I could say it better. Three words never seem enough to express how I feel."

She sensed his weariness and lightly smiled. Rusti was sorry she could not show him how much she loved him. She was sorry she could never love him with her entire body. That was something she'd have to deal with later.

Rusti winced, having remembered something. She slapped her forehead."Oh no!"

"What's wrong, Rusti?"

"Post cards! Mom asked me to send her postcards from Australia and I _completely_ . . ." the girl's eyes shot wide and all color drained from her face. "Ohmigod! I don't even know if she's still alive!" she choked-which stabbed her broken ribs and their pain hit her in the gut, forcing her to grieve lightly, painting shallow. "Dammit"

"Rusti, your mother's alive . . . and so is Dezi."

Her jaw fell "Dezi?!"

Prime nodded. "At the time we left Earth. She and Netty were still alive and with an underground resistance."

"Dezi!" Suddenly Rusti was able to breathe better. But then she realized what he really said: "Waitaminute, Optimus, who's 'we'? And how was it that you ended up on Earth?"

"Sh! Not now! Dr. Zornoy will be very upset if I excite you any further. Get some rest."

She shook her head. "How can you expect me to sleep when all I want to do is spend time with you? I almost lost you! And . . . and we almost didn't make here. If it weren't for Ambassador Koontah, you very well might never have found us."

Prime sat up with a slight smile. "I would have found you, Rusti. Believe me. The Quintessons caught us off guard, but not entirely unprepared. All those nights and weekends when I sat and work while you slept are paying off now."

"You knew the Quintessons were going to do this?"

"No. It's just a contingency plan. We were to regroup here and return." Prime now looked distant and he stared silently a moment. "We had no idea the Quintessons would ally themselves with the Inoux."

She choked with tears again and looked elsewhere. "I almost lost you . . .and you almost did not come back to me."

"No, I would have found you, Sweetheart."

She shook her head. "Optimus, the universe is vast, even for an Autobot leader. We could have ended up a million light years away."

"Did you really think the ring on your finger was an ordinary ring?"

Her brows squished. "My ring?"

Prime set a finger under her lifeless left hand. It felt good to touch her again. "It's made of my own metal. I would have found you no matter where you ended up."

She smiled, both impressed and excited. The ring she wore was far more valuable than she thought. She rubbed her thumb over the smooth surface of his hand. Rusti now realized that in a way he had been with her all along. Taking comfort in that, she relaxed and finally allowed sleep to settle over her. "Optimus, I was just wondering one more thing-and then I promise to sleep."

"At this point, anything."

"There was a baby alien on the Frostbite. I found him at the time the battle started. I don't know where he is and I was wondering if you'd look for him."

"What alien baby, Rusti?"

"Just a baby. I actually don't know if it's animal or people. It had . . . um, a funny-shaped head with horns and it squeaked. And you know, not sure why, Optimus, but I felt like I might have seen it before. I just don't remember where. No species lives on more than one planet, do they, Optimus?" she yawned. "Can't see the same species existing at two different locations-or envision something before discovering it exists, can you?"

"I cannot discount anything, Rusti. The further you travel in space and the more places you visit, the less likely for anything to be impossible."

She batted her eyes. "I was hoping for a yes-or-no answer, Optimus."

Prime leaned again, "I missed you, Rusti."

She touched the smooth warm surface of his helm and bit back more tears. "Me, too." she whispered. Her eyes climbed and traced the lines of his face and helm until she found herself staring at his optics. Rusti wished she could kiss him there. And there. And there.

Things were bad enough at the moment, but it was really unfair that she was reminded how she'd never get to express how she really felt about him. She'd always be in his world, but never part of it.

Rusti closed her stinging, dry eyes and Prime sat silently with her until she fell to sleep.

As Optimus and Rodimus recovered, Magnus finally reactivated.

The first two days took him in and out of repair bay. First Aid and Perceptor worked tirelessly to replace two ventral fuel lines and six transformation components before the city commander could so much as stand. The next two days Magnus underwent readjustments and realignments. That was by far more painful than replacement of damaged parts. But ever determined, the Major-General faced his pain and dared himself to keep going.

Magnus limped about the control room/turned physical therapy. He gripped the support rails on either side a large makeshift treadmill and took three steps before he growled and hissed three consecutive, non-repeatable words.

Perceptor monitored his progress and made a minor adjustments at Magnus' knee joint and right hip. "Frankly, Ultra Magnus, your insinuation on recalibration along the cylindrical pulleys and quarterstaff cable systems fails to include the isolated damage along the Gemini buffers between the third and forth parallels-Good morning, Prime. I assume you've been given permission to leave, haven't you? First Aid informed me you and Rodimus are on strict medical orders to remain-"

"Ggaaahhhhhh!" Magnus roared over the scientist's long winded hail. "Perceptor, get that fragging piece of shit out of my knee before I do something _uncomfortable_ with your digipad!"

Perceptor quickly unlatched a measuring rod from the back of Magnus' right knee. He frowned at it then at Magnus. The rod, now well bent, will need to be replaced . . . again.

"Hello, Magnus," Prime greeted. "It's nice to see you up and around."

"Up, yes." Magnus snarled. "Around, not _yet_. And you'd better hope, Prime, you can give me a fucking good explanation regarding the two Decepticons in our camp."

"Later," Prime brushed. "We're going to-"

Magnus pounded the rail support at his right. He drilled holes into the Autobot leader with his optics. "_Later!?_ We got our _afts_ kicked across the fucking cosmos and you just brush it off?!"

"Galvatron and Cyclonus are fugitives. They left the Decepticons and were it not for them, I would not be standing here."

"So you just let them run loose all over the camp. That's just fragging _great_, Prime. Rodimus will enjoy writing graffiti all over your dismembered chassis."

"Magnus, except for Jazz, the entire senior staff is laid up. I am an Autobot leader, not a magician."

Magnus held the Autobot leader with optics burning bright with pain and frustration. "I suppose we can discuss it later," he growled.

Prime returned the Major-General's glare with sympathy. Magnus' pain did not nothing good for his mood. And he pushed himself almost to the breaking point to get back on his feet as fast as possible. Nothing anyone would say could convince Magnus to ease up on himself. Optimus believed somewhere deep down, there was still something left of the Decepticon Magnus used to be.

Don't let up, don't lie down and _never_ give in.

"I've decided to hold a funeral, Ultra Magnus. We've lost . . . " Optimus could not finish it. They've lost a total of forty lives on Cratis and several more along the way. "Also, Rusti said you and the Dinobots rescued Titanium and one of the ships from a canyon and found some kind of science lab."

"Yes," Magnus' entire demeanor changed. "I think it might even be where the Pretenders were created."

"Where is your report?"

"On the Vertical Horizon But if you'll give me a couple more hours, I'll walk over and get it."

"No," Prime objected. "I can find it." Then he realized Magnus' reason for volunteering; motivation to get walking again. Optimus thought of a better motivation: "Magnus," he said, tone light, "I-uh-I've assigned Daniel Witwicky to maintenance on the Alvarez. I had to break up a fight between him and Arcee earlier and if-uh-if you have time, maybe you'd not mind . . . checking in on him; see how he's progressing."

Magnus' face turned up. "I'll check my appointment calender."

Prime understood necessity behind the funeral, but resources and time was tight.

Nearly everyone who could spare a moment attended the funeral-even Galvatron and Cyclonus who stood at a respectful distance.

Two hundred and sixteen names were added to the plaque marking the burial site. Rather than the stones that made the original sixty-by-fifty graveyard, Colt, Hard Tak and Slingshot took scrap metal from the Speedster and with a bit of work, polished it and etched in the names of those who did not make it to Cratis.

Optimus was not happy they made the plaque without authorization but he understood why. The Paratrons still did not understand the purpose behind the chain of command but at least Slingshot knew better and tot he Aerialbot's credit, he apologized for not clearing the project with anyone first.

The Autobot leader examined the assembly of refugees. The 'smaller folk' were allowed to stand closer. That usually consisted of Humans and Humanoids. Some of the ladies present made flowers out of scraps of material and laid them over the graves of children. There was no wood close enough to fashion crosses at each grave, so Colt and Hard Tak painted stones in white and wrote names across them.

"The people represented here are not at this graveyard," Optimus began simply. "Whoever they were still resides with us. No one is isolated from anyone else. Each of us is a rock, tossed into a pond and our influence, our ideas and hopes, all collide with someone else's. Intelligent life always seeks and influences intelligent life. No matter where we go from here, the lives of each of these people we remember today, comes with us. They're not with us physically, but who and what they were will never be forgotten.'

'And to that we vow," Optimus added, "we shall remember."

All the Autobots, all EDC staff and a few citizens softly repeated the vow.

Several moments of awkward silence befell the crowd. One then a few at a time they dispelled to return to duty. Others lingered, adding private words to lost friends.

Blaster sat on his knees, staring at the mound under which Rewind now lay. Pong sat nearby, his optics on Mirror's grave. Delta stood behind him until most everyone else left.

Optimus received a digipad report from Trinket and frowned at Springer's present condition. The ships were nearly completely repaired now thanks to the shields protecting the camp from energy storms. But repairing a ship was easier than a person. Autobots, mechanical or not, were still far more complex. And the warp drives still needed to be installed.

Delta slowly approached the Autobot leader, her hands behind her back in a non-assuming pose. "Hello, Optimus," she said softly. "It's nice to have you back."

Optimus believed her initial intentions in a simple greeting and gave her a smile. "Thank you, Delta. I missed everyone too."

She nodded. "What's, uh, what's with the two 'red-optics' over there?"

He gazed when she nodded to ward Galvatron and Cyclonus. They quietly spoke in their own language until Galvatron laughed. Optimus wished he knew what was so funny. He already missed their companionship. "They're friends of mine, Delta. And don't worry. They won't bite."

"Wh . . . " she smiled, disbelieving. "That is _Galvatron_, Optimus Prime. He is responsible for the destruction of my homeworld."

Prime studied her before looking to the Decepticon fugitives. It did not seem like it was Galvatron's nature to do anything of the sort. But Optimus was neither blind nor ignorant. Nor was he callous toward the Paratrons. They had a right to be angry. After all, Galvatron even tried to destroy Cybertron at one point.

But that was directed entirely by Vector Sigma and Optimus, even then, did not hold Galvatron responsible. He sighed heavily. "Sometimes, Delta _sometimes_ people change. It's rare and seldom permanent. But people can change. And as much as you might not like it, it is within my nature to give someone the benefit of a doubt."

She gave him a peasant smile. "Of course."

He returned the smile cordially and read communications reports from Bumblebee.

A warm, gentle hand ran across the small of his back. Optimus stopped reading, surprised by the foreign touch. He looked at Delta's mischievous smile but did not return it.

"I remember," she said smoothly, "You once said Elita used to surprise you like this."

Prime withdrew. The femme had some audacity approaching him now, especially since he broke off their relationship almost twenty-six years ago.

She advanced again, sympathy in her optics. But Prime held his hand out to keep her at a distance. "I love Rusti," he said quietly. "Besides, our relationship did not work before-"

She scoffed. "She is a child! What could she _possibly_ offer you that a-and she's _human_ on top of that! What is with you? Are you so afraid of a real femme?"

"Not at all."

"Then name _one attribute_, one _thing_ she can do that I cannot."

"She can deal with the Virus."

Delta flinched, amazed.

That was the moment Galvatron came to the rescue. "There's something you need to see, Prime," he said quietly. Then he turned to Delta who still stared. "Sorry. I need to borrow your leader for a moment." and he ushered Optimus away. "Sorry for disrupting your opportunity to play house, Prime," Galvatron grinned. "But this is something you really need to see."

They crossed the camp and passed the Confiscator to meet Repugnus standing in robot mode.

Repugnus grinned smugly. "Lots of rocks in the field. we put 'em to good use."

Prime's optics drifted from the Monsterbot's devious brand of smiling to the debris field.

Decepticon body parts dotted from one end to another. Heads, hands, broken torsos, legs, wings, anything that resembled a shape rose from the soil like potted plants.

Optimus saw the perverse humor in it all but could not decide whether he should be upset over the repulsive use of corpses or enjoy Repugnus' creative approach.

Sideswipe and Physix joined Prime and Galvatron a moment later.

"This is stupid," Sideswipe snipped. "How gross can you be?"

"Gross 'nuff t' make you change yer color scheme, purdy-bot." Repugnus sneered. "Don't worry, though. The best part's comin'."

Inclined to laugh, Optimus suppressed his reaction to a half smile. "There's more, Repugnus?"

"Half-ass jobs 'r for amateurs. Luckily the Dino-critters know how t' plant 'nd know what a ball is." as he ended his reply, Swoop circled above and dropped in a rough landing. In his hands he cradled the heads of two Decepticon Pretenders; one of which Galvatron recognized.

The Decepticon cringed, remembering how he killed a Sweep and laughed as the head bounced down the hall.

Repugnus took the heads and made a loud whistle-call. At his beckoning, Slag and Sludge came racing from around a nearby pile of debris. The Monsterbot turned to Prime, propping the heads. He handed one to Slag who smiled. Repugnus produced a club constructed from someone's arm, complete with swinging hand. "We call this 'Dinobot Pinball."

"Dinobot Pinball," Galvatron repeated.

Repugnus set his Decepticon head on the ground and glanced at some target in the field. He intentionally wiggled his aft and swung the arm-club like a golf club, the hand acted like the hammer. The head yelped and soared into the sky. It hit another head which also yelped and its optics lit up. A board spring launched the 'headball' back into the air. It came close to landing when a bodyless leg kicked it up again.

"Yipe!" the headball cried. A board shot up, indicating Repugnus had scored four hundred points.

"Oof!"

The headball landed atop a mound, teetered then rolled until it passed under a torso-which lit up and shot the ball to yet another destination.

"Yieeeee!!"

Back and forth, up then down, the headball yelped, barked and squeaked as it hit targets and sometimes the targets also howled.

Slag took his turn at it. His headball disappeared then the next second, something exploded and the head sailed back and dropped into a mechanized series of pulleys and springs. The headball squealed as it rolled and dropped, rolled, shot away, came back, rolled, shot away then flew to return to Slag's feet.

Repugnus glanced at his audience with a smirk. "Slag likes t' toss stuff outta bounds. We hadta rig a c'ntraption t' git it back." the Monsterbot offered a toothy grin as he spun the headball between his hands, expecting a response.

Prime's optics drifted from the Monsterbot to the game field. He wanted Repugnus to keep the Dinobots busy, not demented. He said nothing as Sideswipe snidely voiced his disapproval. Then Optimus spotted a blind area. He pointed ten-thirty of their position. "You missed an area out that way, Repugnus," he said simply.

Repugnus shifted to Monster mode. "Not a problem. Consider it done. Come on, Fido. We still got holes t' dig."

Slag shifted also. "Me, Slag like digging holes. Big holes, small holes, potholes . . ."

Physix and Sideswipe stared at their leader, their jaws down. Sideswipe took on spokesbot: "I can't believe you're encouraging him! This . . . this is abominable"

Galvatron crossed his arms. "It is disturbing, but certainly creative."

"NO ONE ASKED YOUR OPINION, Decepticon factory REJECT!"

"Sideswipe!" Prime rumbled. "Not one more word."

The Autobot warrior steamed, Maybe you've forgotten whose side you're leading, Prime. In case you need to be reminded, _that's Galvatron_ and THAT-" he pointed to the outfield, "-is offensive!" Sideswipe stomped off, cursing. Physix glanced from the field to Prime.

"I don't understand why you're not upset over this obscene display, Prime."

Optimus met Physix's optics. "As . . . undesirable as the field looks, Repugnus didn't make it so much a game. That was for the Dinobots. What he did was set up an early warning system. Anyone who crosses the field will get a nasty surprise."

Now understanding, Physix nodded.

Cloudstreaker approached and handed Prime a digipad she gazed past Physix to the debris field and cringed. "Is anyone assigned to clean-up, sir?" she asked Prime.

"Yes," Optimus answered, "Repugnus is still working on it. And according to this, the Mozart and the Armored Crest are both ready for hyperdrive fit?"

"Yes, sir. Quasar double-checked before sending me here. Jazz said to let you know Ultra Magnus is on his feet, sir." she smiled.

"Thank you, Cloudstreaker."

Rodimus woke to a delightful, dimly-lit room. Hushed voices spoke from a distance. At first Roddi ignored them, figuring he was barely alive and should not think about anything but getting well.

When he heard Optimus' name, it dragged the Autobot leader further from his groggy state of mind. He had the strangest dreams and they shot through his head all at once.

Something about the Virus and Optimus begging for Roddi's life.

Waitaminute. Was . . . was it possible that Optimus had finally caught up with them? That'd be great if it were true. Roddi thought it'd be nice to take a couple days off and let Optimus handle all the yahoos, the ships and the fragging storms.

But staying down was not in Rodimus' restless nature. Sleep, dammit!

He powered down, hoping to slip back into unconsciousness. Garbled noises dragged him back and a vision of Void licking Optimus forced Roddi's optics to kindle. As painful as it was, he pushed himself up. His off-line chronometer failed to tell him the day and time. But judging by the light sneaking through the door seam, Rodimus guessed he was either deep inside one of the ships or daylight filtered in.

_I will drink your suffering like the sweetest of things._

"Optimus?" Roddi called to no one. _He_ said that to Optimus. The Autobot leader moaned then growled and yanked off seven sensor nodes. If that was the best First Aid could do to keep tabs on him, the Autobot medic had another thought coming. Rodimus refused to be contained.

Where was Magnus? What was going on? Who's in charge? What day was it and how long had he been out?

Rodimus pinched off an energon feed and switched off monitors and scanners. He was fine.

No, really. He was just fine, even if he still looked battered and scratched, cut and suffered some fragmentation. What mattered was that he was up and moving.

Roddi limped but managed to sneak out his room with no intervention. He heard bits and pieces of news and gossip about Kup and his slowly-improved condition.

Rodimus was greatly relived to hear that. Other conversations he tuned into consisted of Air Raid's damaged optics and how Trinket would have to jury-rig something for the Aerialbot until something better could be done.

Grimlock did not sound good. He was to remain in stasis.

"Rodimus! Hi!"

He almost ran into Neon as she carried a box of materials in the opposite direction. "I did not know First Aid released you so soon. Are you alright?"

"Just great. Where's Ultra Magnus?" Roddi plastered a ridiculous smile over his face.

"Umm, supervising. On the Alvarez."

"Supervising?"

"Yeah. He can't do very much still. So he's supervising clean-up."

Roddi tilted his head just so, confused. "Why would a clean-up job require supervision?"

"Well, you know, the bugs."

Rodimus remembered the energon leeches someone brought on board the Alvarez because they failed to adhere to decontamination protocols. As a result, the nasty things spread and the Alvarez had to be quarantined. "Okay." Roddi drawled, "Soooo, Uh, so who's got 'KP' duty?"

Neon rebalanced the box in her arms and started down the hall, "Daniel Witwicky."

Judging by the temperature and humidity in the camp, Rodimus figured it was about late morning. Not many Autobots or Humans were up working-at least that he saw. He did notice, however, across the camp the Confiscator's wings were missing. No, there they are: standing vertically some distance outside camp.

What the heck?

Rodimus thought about journeying to the other side of the camp to ask about the wings, why they were removed and standing like monoliths around the ships. But it required more much energy to approach the Confiscator than the Alvarez. He'd ask later.

Turning south, Rodimus also discovered the Speedster was now a pile of damaged parts slowly smoldering under a controlled plasma burn.

"Magnus has been busy," Rodimus muttered. He ambled past the Gabriel Genesis -also missing her wings. He approached the Crested Moon, the other ship used as sleeping quarters for the Autobots. He passed the port-side (again minus the wing) and spotted Doublecross painting the ship's name with a brush holding only two hairs.

Roddi watched her a long moment, confused and amused at the same time. "Crossy, what did you do to piss Magnus off so badly?"

The femme Monsterbot lowered her brush with a huff and looked to the sky, her shoulders dropping, exasperated.

Rodimus held his hands out, grinning, "never mind-ha! I don't wanna know."

He arrived at the Alvarez, exhausted and doubting the wisdom of leaving medbay at all let along without authorization.

But then, Roddi knew Optimus did that more often than not and what was good for one Prime, doubtless, was just fine for the other.

Rodimus rounded the Alvarez to her starboard and plank. Tempra and Peacemaker pushed two cars of parts and tools into the ship while Rodimus paused and gave the Autobot cruiser a once-over.

Then he spotted him.

Daniel sat propped against the ship's landing gear. He gulped water and wiped his scrubby face of grime. At first Rodimus didn't want to talk to the little slime bug. He supposed somewhere in his spark he was still angry (to put it nicely) about Dan-o's treatment of Rusti.

Roddi knew better, however. He was not in the position to dislike anyone; he was in command. It's important to set a descent example.

Still, he was willing to make a semi-worthy exception in Daniel's case. He approached the scowling Human and crouched. "Dan-o!" he greeted with annoying cheerfulness. "What's hanging?"

"Before you decide to boss me around, Rodimus, I'm just taking a break." Witwiky's face was ugly.

"Hmm hmm. I can see that. Magnus is in the Alvarez, I suppose."

"Pfff." Daniel rolled his eyes. "_His Glory and Majesty_, Lord Maggots awaits my return with broomstick in hand." Daniel glowered and shrugged his shoulders and Rodimus believed if he were a smoker, Witwicky would be on this third cigarette by now.

The Autobot leader tossed him a weak smile and rose to depart.

"You know, Rodimus," Daniel called. He waited for Prime to turn back. "Something just occurred to me."

"You mean you were actually thinking?" Roddi could not resist the cut.

Daniel seemed not to have heard. He took another swig of water. "You know, I used to really hate you. I mean, between you and Prime, you're the poster child for assholes anonymous. The cure-all for whatever ails the galaxy."

Daniel pinned Roddi with his small dark eyes and Rodimus read the unblemished hate therein. He smiled casual. "By Primus, Dan-o, I'm praying fervently there might be a for-real _point_ to your yammering. Otherwise, I _did_ have a nice day. Thank you for wasting it."

"You see," Witwicky continued, unabashed, "I realized that while I hate you, Rodimus, I found that I don't hate you _nearly_ as much as I hate Optimus Prime. Not because he's got a quieter way of doing things-we both know Optimus can be far more manipulative and underhanded. But I don't hate you _quite_ as much because my daughter is not in love with you. Just thought you'd like to know."

It was meant to hurt and in a way it did. Roddi loved and adored Rusti. It was hard to experience feedback through the Matrix when she and Optimus kissed. Still, Roddi would not begrudge the relationship. She breathed life into his friend; life Roddi could not have given himself. Rusti was life for both of them, really, Rodimus never cared for a baby before. Certainly Hot Rod had wonderful times with Daniel as a child but frankly, that was another _life_ ago.

And while Daniel's statement stung, Rodimus was not going to let Mr. Jackass win this round of wit.

"Well, now, Dan-o, we can't have that!" Roddi grinned. "You should never hate Op more than me. After all, I'm the PR guy between us. Op is the diplomatic stiff. I just make it look good. So . . . you know, I could turn it into a threesome."

Daniel's cocky, gotchya expression dropped to disbelief.

Roddi had him. "Yeah!" he pushed. "I'll find a way for Optimus to fall madly in love with me! We'll have bouts of shameless passionate lovemaking! We'll take photos! Post 'em on the Internet, email them to your wife! Rusti's crazy for both of us; she'll love the idea! Oh! We might even make it a foursome if you're ever lonely enough-"

"You're a fucking sick bastard, Rodimus." Daniel about jumped to his feet. He certainly stomped off, huffing and muttering.

Rodimus grinned in spite of the scratches on his face. Maybe the wife thing was a bit much. But Daniel got the idea.

Rodimus boarded the Alvarez and casually greeted Autobot and Human alike. He carefully stepped along the corridor as Skipper, Trixy and Slingshot used fire retardant to purge the ship of robotic parasites. Behind them a crew of Humans used push brooms to sweep up the nasty things.

Roddi found Magnus right where Magnus would be: on the bridge, sorting, categorizing, enumerating and commanding. Tall colorful mountains of digipads surrounded him like a forest of neatly-stacked, organized trees. He sat in a comfortable chair, adjusted close enough to the floor so he could reach the stacks with ease.

"REDIAL!" he shouted needlessly into his personal comlink. "Where are those damned service reports? I don't-did I _ask_ you what Blaster was doing?"

Rodimus stepped aside as Blue entered bearing another collection of pads.

Magnus received them and did a double take. "Blue? Why the Pitt aren't these pre-alphabetized?"

"Sir?"

"This is not going to work! I want this stuff organized according to rank, name and color!"

She about argued but relented, apparently knowing better than to argue with the Major-General. "Aye, sir."

"REDIAL!" Magnus snarled again, "what's holding up-don't you give me lip, buster or you'll be cleaning engine parts!"

The best thing about Ultra Magnus as disciplinarian was that when Optimus or Roddi gave an order, the Autobots were _happy_ to carry it out simply because it wasn't Magnus doing the ordering. Roddi stepped off the entry dias. "Heya, Mags."

Ultra Magnus had to look twice before he realized who joined him. "Rodimus! But aren't you supposed to be in medbay?" Roddi shrugged. Magnus moaned. "You know, you and Prime will be the death of me." Magnus arranged a stack of mis-matched digipads according to color and size.

Roddi leaned against a nearby consol. "Please tell me he's here."

"Who?" Magnus read annoyance on Prime's face. "Oh, yeah. Optimus' here. Been here for a week and a half, now-Redial! You have ten minutes!"

"A week?"

Magnus sifted through a stack of silver and red pads. "That's right."

"I've been out for a week?"

"No. _We've_ been out for a week. He sat with you for four days. Slept two. Thank you, Blue. Set them there." Magnus slipped his optics from the stack to Roddi. "You really should get more rest, Rodimus."

Rodimus frowned. "What's with all the pads, Mags?"

"Uuuh . . . I've been asked to go through logs for discrepancies."

"Discrepancies? What discrepancies? We have discrepancies?"

Magnus pieced out a white digipad, scribbled across it and handed it to Rodimus.

Prime gazed at it and went cold. Magnus scribbled the word SABOTAGE across the top. He erased it and handed it back as Redial raced in.

"Blaster wouldn't give me the other three." Redial all but dropped his stack of digipads and tried to race out but Magnus would not have it.

"Nah-uh! You get me those pads, buster."

"But-"

"Did I not just give you a DIRECT ORDER?! Do you have glitch mice in your processor? You're pissing me off, Redial. Get me those pads!"

With a pleading look to Rodimus, Redial fled the ship.

Rodimus crouched close to Magnus. "How are you hoping to find anything Magnus? We don't know how many pads we have."

Fort Max's city commander/drill sergeant gave Rodimus a small smile. "What do you think I do with my spare time, Roddi?"

Rodimus withdrew, all but horrified. Look up the word 'meticulous' in the dictionary and he'd find Magnus' mug shot next to it. Prime shook his head. "I'm not dealing with this. I'm off to find Op."

"Uh . . .you _might_ want to wait until you've had a bit more rest before you do that, Rodimus."

"Whoa. That's a bit suspicious. What's going on?"

Magnus paused in his work: "uummm . . ."

"Magnus?"

But Ultra Magnus shrugged and diverted attention elsewhere. Rodimus grabbed him by the left audio array.

"Ggaaaahhhh!" Magnus dropped the two pads in his hands.

Roddi tugged him close, his voice stern: "Magnus, what's going on?"

**Pt 9: Symptoms**

The evening before Rodimus woke, the Autobots added the Interrogator and the Cold Refractor to their list of readied ships. Optimus left logistics and supplies to Jazz and Gryph (when she had the energy) while he, Quasar and Blaster worked through the night to ready the Saber's Clawfor hyperdrive installation.

Galvatron, Perceptor and Wavelength worked on the Crested Moon. For several hours, the pace and the work ran smoothly. Optimus bugged First Aid for updates on Roddi's condition until two A.M. Earth Pacific standard (very late for Cratis which had 29-hour days) Optimus and Redial finished rerouting the drive line system on the Armored Crest when the Autobot leader took a five minute break. He peered through the view screen into a dismally dark world.

"Driveline system operational at ninety-eight percent proficiency, Optimus." Redial reported. "Shall I fit the inter-coding system?"

Prime stared at Redial, emotionless. _I'm sorry_, he thought. _No one was supposed to make this journey except me._ As tired as he felt, The Autobot leader knew the Autobots were far more exhausted, even homesick. "First Aid," he called.

"No change, Optimus," the medic answered automatically.

"I was going to suggest you get some rest." he sensed surprise at the other end of the comline.

He sensed resentment from Redial.

He sensed worry from the Dinobots.

He sensed despair from Kup and pain from Springer.

Arcee sat huddled in a dark corner on the Covenant, angry and hurt.

The view screen in front flashed, nearly blinding him. Redial seemed not to notice.

"Prime?"

First Aid's voice came back. "Did you hear me?"

"No," Optimus answered internally.

"If I power down now, I'll be down for six hours. Maybe more-"

"Do it."

"But-"

Optimus interrupted aloud: "First Aid, I can't afford you to collapse due to exhaustion. Get some rest then send Trinket off for . . . ressst . . ." His words trailed off when the view screen plunged black. "Redial, are you doing anything to the viewer?"

"No. Why-" the communications officer turned and cut his question off when the view screen displayed a horrifying distorted version of Megatron. His robotic form took on the shape of a square metallic bug, his mouth, an infestation of hideous over-developed teeth. He walked on four arms and flickered a black, split tongue. Around him lay bones, skulls and a steaming pool of boiling acid.

Redial dropped his equipment and fled the Crest's bridge.

First Aid's voice once again dragged Optimus' attention from the viewer. "Prime, please . . . just answer . . ."

"I'm sorry," Optimus replied. "Get some rest, First Aid. That's an order." He heard the medic moan, frustrated. The distorted alien version of Megatron continued until the flaring red optics turned toward him. 'Megatron' hissed.

"Stop it," Prime whispered. "You're not frightening anyone."

Megatron's face folded into Void's head. The head twisted and pushed itself through the viewer. FEAR PRESENT. ABUNDANT. EVERYTHING.

It spoke of all the Autobots, the Humans, the energy of despair and hopelessness. Optimus could not look the thing in the face.

"Then you no longer need me. You have all the others. And you don't need Rodimus." Prime now gazed upon the eyeless monster, projecting courage and a bit of smugness.

The Virus said nothing. It brought a leg out the view screen, now displaying the world outside once again. ENTERTAINING. NOT EDIBLE.

Optimus darkened his optics. "I am unaffected in accordance to your lust." he did not realize he was using Void's syntax. "Your dislogic is ineffectual."

Void hissed and lunged, knocking Prime off his feet. The crashed in the middle of the bridge and rolled one way then another until the Autobot twisted round and grabbed the Virus by its neck.

A bad move.

Optimus pinned the Virus to the floor but he did not account for the monster's tail. Void securely wound its long square tail round Prime's legs.

One needle-thin, spidery black leg savagely sank into the Autobot's right hip. Another pierced him under the arm. Optimus took control of his pain and converted it into energy. He elbowed Void's right leg, giving him just enough room and a few seconds necessary to call a tool from subspace. Void hissed and Prime shoved the tool between its deadly teeth.

That did not last long; the Virus absorbed the tool and violently impaled a third leg through Optimus' left leg. The captive Autobot finally succumbed to the torment, incapable of diffusing or transfusing it elsewhere. But defiant, Optimus still sought a way to escape or fight.

Void finished what it started with a final skew into Prime's left shoulder. Hemotricity flowed from Prime's wounds. It ran freely over the physical Virus and dripped along the floor. Optimus Prime surrendered to Void's life-robbing embrace. Faceless Darkness licked him along his faceplate and purred.

For Optimus, it was like being embraced by a spider; the damned abomination owned him.

"Is there _anyone_ onboard the Armored Crest or are they all taking a nap? HELLO! Pfft! Armored Crest, this is the Hannibal's Mark . . . Optimus Prime, do we have a fragging communication-frag it all, I'm coming over."

Blaster's voice dragged Optimus out the black chasm of unconsciousness. He forced himself on his back and stared at the ceiling. His mind drifted until the thought of Rusti gave him enough strength to realize he should not be where he was; lying on the floor.

Weakly he struggled to sit up but failed. "Galvatron . . ." he heard the Decepticon patch in.

"Did you say something, Prime?"

" . . . what . . . what's the time?"

Galvatron hesitated and switched to his internal communicator. "_Are you alright?"_

Pause. "There's . . . a poem coming through. I heard it . . . I think."

He did not know Galvatron softly cursed. He did not know Wavelength hailed Trinket. A moment later he heard two sets of footfalls. There was Blaster's voice: harsh, irritated, snappy.

There was Galvatron's voice: strong, commanding, authoritative.

Optimus managed to sit up but his sensors registered mostly static. Someone gripped his left shoulder and he winced weakly with pain. Then there was Galvatron. Prime lifted his right hand and touched the Decepticon's face.

"The devil came for me."

_He tried to steal your life._

That may or may not have been Galvatron speaking. The voice was there, the words were not.

"I miss Rusti. Roddi will be so angry." Galvatron wrapped an arm about him and Optimus felt the warmth of his body, the strength of his power core.

Beautiful.

He hoped that when he and Roddi died, Galvatron would consider taking care of the Autobots; a surrogate leader.

But that was ridiculous! Galvatron was a Decepticon! Optimus weakly laid his hand on Galvatron's chest. He and Rodimus were going to die and their people would follow.

"Rusti won't die," he muttered softly. Optimus was not aware of the argument between Galvatron and Blaster at the moment. Tears fell over his face plate and rolled cold down his chest.

Vaguely Optimus reached for Roddi who still slept on the Spiral Star. He should sleep, too. After all, he worked several days straight. Sleep might let him feel better.

Maybe.

_Sleep, Roddi_, he thought._ I love _. . .

Galvatron just finished the realignment along the communications array when he checked his chronometer.

Five A.M. no telling what that meant on Cratis-and not that he cared, really. The longer they stayed, the less he liked it. He really sympathized with the Autobots who had been here for an estimated total of two months. Little wonder they were all cranky.

Of course, they were less than enthused having to cooperate with him and many did not hesitate to express their feelings toward him. While the Autobots knew better than to start a fight, snarls and glares shot his way like silent arrows. Galvatron either took them lightly or ignored them entirely. He did not, however, hesitate to defend Cyclonus.

Wavelength was a bit different: more accepting and willing to listen. Galvatron hoped through at least one Autobot, he'd find an ally.

Prime's voice weakly filtered through the Armored Crest's comlines. Galvatron turned to Wavelength while Perceptor calibrated rate factors unique to the Crested Moon.

"Did you hear that?" he asked the Autobot.

"Vaguely. Might be a resounding ghost signal. We get those from time to time."

The Decepticon lifted his chin to speak ship-to-ship: "Did you say something, Prime?"

Wavelength watched the Decepticon as Galvatron bowed his head. The very next moment, Galvatron bolted off the ship and suspecting the worst, Wavelength called for help.

Blaster blocked Galvatron's way into the Armored Crest. "Don't think so, gruesome and greasy. I might not be allowed to punch your face in, but I don't have to be cooperative, either."

"I have no interest in arguing with you about this, Autobot," Galvatron growled. "I might not have a cannon, but I can still kick your aft any time I choose to do so. Now let me the slagging frag in before I give you double vision."

At first Blaster was not going to give in. No matter what Optimus thought or believed, this was a _Decepticon._ He deserved nothing but judgement and death.

But Blaster wasn't stupid. He knew Galvatron was _very_ capable of rearranging his body. Reluctantly, he stepped aside.

Galvatron rushed in and found Prime on the floor, struggling to stay conscious. Galvatron dropped beside him. Optimus bled from inexplicable wounds. He softly spoke but Galvatron only heard "Roddi" and 'angry'. He drew Prime close as Blaster opened an emergency compartment and produced a thermal cover until Trinket arrived.

Galvatron stared hard at Blaster. "Has this happened before? Does the Virus do this frequently?"

"Yes, but it was two years ago. The Virus-thingy physically attacked Rodimus Prime, too."

"How recently?"

"Just before the war with your planetary cousins."

Galvatron stared, sifting through his memory banks for names and ideas. "Have they made attempts to find a specialist?"

"Negative. It's infected the _Matrix_. How 'r we supposed to fix _that_?"

Galvatron frowned as Trinket came in with an antigrav stretcher. "Please help me, Blaster," he requested politely.

Blaster flinched upon hearing his name from the lip components of an old enemy. But he complied, helping Galvatron lift the Autobot leader off the floor. They laid Prime on the flat and tucked the cover over his wounds to keep them clear of Cratian dust. As Trinket left with Optimus, Galvatron turned to Blaster with crossed arms.

"In order to aid the Matrix, perhaps it would be a good idea to know more about it."

"Can't," Blaster quickly answered. "Don't got access to Cybertronian records-"

"Inconsequential."

Blaster glared.

"I know what you're capable of, Blaster and if your leaders mean anything to you, you will research until your antennae fry."

The communications officer, usually cool and laid back, snorted with flaring optics, "How am I supposed to do that on a planet stuck in the middle of no-place? Or hasn't it hit you yet that we're _hundreds_ of _light years_ from _Cybertron_?"

Galvatron's own optics flashed and he growled. "Just three words for you, Autobot: _make it happen_."

Galvatron could not stand to remain on the Armored Crest. He was miffed with Autobots who did nothing or next to nothing to aid their leader. What was the matter with those idiots? Galvatron knew Optimus was not alone on the bridge. Who was with him and why didn't he or she stay there and try to help out?

Fuming outside the Crest, Galvatron leaned against its outer hull. He glared at anyone dumb or irritating enough to stare. Were they all so afraid of the Virus that they went out of their way to avoid helping their leaders? Maybe it was that the Autobots were so accustomed to someone else solving their problems they assumed Rodimus and Optimus could deal with the crisis on their own. _Their_ problem, no one else's.

Bad policy. But then, Galvatron digressed, the Decepticons were very much the same way, but for other reasons. He who dies leaves his post for the next-in-line. Galvatron wanted to change that. He wanted to make things completely different for the Decepticons. But when he recalled the kind of jerks he worked and fought with, he remembered they were not exactly prize-winning material. Cutthroats, scavengers, opportunists, miscreants and blood-thirsty murderers.

What folly!

Galvatron tuned into the one frequency he and Cyclonus shared. "Where is the support necessary to take care of their leaders? Why don't they have better care for the ones who protect and guide them?"

"You never had one, Mighty One," came Cyclonus' low-toned voice.

"I had-I have you."

The Decepticon flier fell silent. Galvatron could tell the coordinates Cyclonus flew; six thousand feet in the air; just high enough to get readings from the smog hovering above the debris field.

Galvatron banged his head against the hull, frustrated. "Don't the Autobots understand the Virus is destroying the Matrix? Why hasn't anyone looked into finding a solution?"

"The only ones to answer that, Galvatron, are the two Primes. _Perhaps_ Ultra Magnus. But it also occurs to me that they have been so busy struggling to deal with the Virus they may not have had time to investigate its origin or weakness."

The former Decepticon leader stared at the dirty sky, his mind on everything but the planet and its crappy environment. "Perhaps, Cyclonus, you and I _are_ the support system." Cyclonus could offer no answer and Galvatron was not looking for one. He decided to find out how Optimus fared. And if he was daring enough, he'd find out about Rodimus _if_ First Aid was willing to talk to him.

Galvatron boarded the Spiral Star and passed through the first level waiting room. He aimed for the turbo lift to the next level when some poor soul screamed three rooms down. Profanity the likes of which the Decepticon heard only from Ultra Magnus issued from the mech's vocal unit; vociferous and foul.

"You people are fucking homicidal masochists!"

"I'm sorry, Mister Witwicky," a female voice calmly answered, "the lice won't come off any other way."

"Don't give me that, bitch! Just give me something for the goddamned pain!"

"Mr. Witwicky, you call me that one more time and I"ll _leave_ them on you!"

Galvatron took three steps back and ran into an Aerialbot. Slingshot looked like he had been dragged through a laser gallery at a fair. The Decepticon gave the poor fellow a once-over then offered an apologetic smile.

"Looks painful."

Daniel screamed again, louder than before. Slingshot cringed. "Not as bad as that."

"What-uh-what happened?"

"Some sort of Cratian robo-lice outbreak on the Alvarez. Seems Repugnus had it in for Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and planted a nest of the bugs in their bunks. Daniel found it while cleaning. Apparently-"

Slingshot winced at yet another of Witwicky's bone-cracking screams. "-uh, they got through his support suit and under his skin."

As the Aerialbot gave the low-down, Dr. Zornoy flew in and rifled past the curtains that gave Witwicky a small measure of privacy. "Aye, not so good there, Mr. Woe-to-you."

"This is not funny," Daniel snarled in return. "A blood-sucking bug on my dick is NOT A LAUGHING MATTER!" And Daniel proceeded to scream again. This time the attending nurse joined him, horrified. She flew out the room, hands covering her face. She ran down the hall into the 'ladies room'.

Dr. Zornoy sounded more like a scientist on a safari, "Oh just look at that! They reproduce asexually! Not so good. We'll have to find another way to get them off you. Hold still, Mr. Witwicky. This might hurt just a little."

Galvatron smiled lightly and turned back to Slingshot. "Where do you think they might have Optimus Prime?"

Slingshot sent him the next level up. Generally the ships were designed so that Autobots worked and inhabited the first two or three levels and Humans took the top two. But First Aid and Perceptor had to rearrange many things on the Spiral Star so that it handled lab work, mental health and surgery for all species. The uppermost level was reserved for rations and supplies, the central for patients' recovery. And they used the bottom decks for emergencies and labwork.

Once on the central deck, Galvatron instinctively seemed to know where they put Optimus Prime. He traversed corridors not used by most Autobot staff to avoid potential fights. He found what he believed to be the room and waited until First Aid or another doctor emerged. Galvatron leaned against the bulkhead and waited patiently.

"No," came First Aid's voice down the hall, "I did _not_ authorize for Rodimus Prime-I understand your concern, Ultra Magnus, but I am the _medic_, not their babysitter. Where is he now?" The medic came six yards from Galvatron when the doors to Prime's room hissed open.

Optimus stepped out the room and met Galvatron's surprised expression. The Autobot looked awful. What-and why-was he up and around already?

First Aid arrived and stopped dead cold.

"I feel much better," Optimus declared.

"No you're not," Galvatron and First Aid countered simultaneously.

Prime ignored Galvatron who noticed a figure stomping his way down the hall. Optimus pinned First Aid with 'casual authority'. "Aren't you supposed to be off duty for a while?"

"Yes," First Aid answered with his usual soft voice. "But for some reason I can't seem to get either of my leaders to do the same."

"Could not sleep." Prime's optics jumped from the medic to his friend. "I keep waking as if there was something I needed to do."

Galvatron nodded toward the approaching mech. "Maybe that's the reason."

Rodimus stomped toward them. First Aid groaned with a hand alongside his face. He shook his head.

"I _had_ to come see this for myself," Rodimus snarled.

Ignoring the other Prime's foul mood, Optimus smiled slightly. "Hello, Rodimus, it's good to see you up."

"Don't you patronize me. And what the PITT is HE doing here?!"

"Helping out."

"Bullshit. You'd better have a _really_ good reason as to _why_ I should not execute him right here."

"I invited him and Cyclonus. That makes them my guests. And they've been nothing but helpful."

Rodimus' optics flared a hot blue. "_Why_ is that supposed to be a good reason?"

"We're short-handed and they have experience. Besides, you and Magnus have been incapacitated."

"They? How many Decepticons did you bring?!"

"Just two: Galvatron and Cyclonus-"

"OH! If you want to eliminate all the Autobots, you have to make sure it's done right, right? So you bring us_ the _two who are at the top of the intergalactic most wanted list_. Nice job, Op!_ Hey, I have a great idea! Why don't you give them some really nice weapons while you're at it?"

Galvatron and Prime both stared at Rodimus, guilty as charged. Roddi's optics narrowed. "I hear a court martial calling. How about I arrange for one right now?"

Galvatron disconcerted. "If you're attempting to be sarcastic, it's not working very well. If you're attempting to overreact, shouldn't we do this in private? The kids will hear us."

Rodimus snapped around. "You stay OUT of this! THIS IS _ENTIRELY_ your fault and I am not to hear ONE MORE WORD out of you!"

Galvatron stared in disbelief. "Wow. You know, hostility really isn't your forte, Rodimus. Not that it ever has been. But you're not very good at throwing your temper."

Rodimus stepped in to give Galvatron a swift right-cross and a kick to the knees. But since he was not at full-power capacity, Roddi was a good deal slower than he otherwise should have been.

Galvatron stepped back and caught the punch with his hand.

First Aid retracted his right arm and a laser shot into Rodimus' neck. The Autobot leader collapsed without warning and 'Aid pointed his left finger at Galvatron: "You! Take a hike!" he pointed to Optimus. "You! Get BACK to bed before I give you _more_ than one dose!"

Optimus thought First Aid was going to short himself with frustration. "If I promise to sleep, can I rest with Rusti?"

Neither Galvatron nor Prime knew a pacifist like First Aid could ever look so pissed. First Aid's visor flashed and radiated. His chin was tucked in as though he were ready to head-butt the first person to disobey him: "You'd better be _dreaming_, Optimus. Because I'll be _monitoring your aft_-and are YOU STILL HERE?" he glared at Galvatron.

"I-I was just wishing them good-night."

First Aid hissed inward and the Decepticon fled in one direction, Optimus in the other.

Rest actually sounded good to Optimus. Just that momentary reaction from Rodimus meant it was going to take a while (a long while) for him to get accustomed to Galvatron-if he ever got that far.

The weary Autobot leader lowered to hand and knees the moment he stepped into Rusti's room. He normally would have checked her progress, read the charts and found something to ask Zornoy. But Optimus deiced to obey First Aid only because he could sleep next to someone he loved. Optimus hoped that by sleeping next to her, the nightmares might not be so prevalent.

As she slept, Rusti sensed everything around her; people, events, situations and the activity of all non-sapient machines. She was aware of all activity in the ship, outside the ship, and around the camp. The ground temperature hovered around eighty-seven point two degrees Fahrenheit. 'Morning shift' prepped for work. They took inventory and caught up on each other's bad dreams. The night crew checked into their quarters. Everyone assigned to the Armored Crest delayed rest while they scoured the vessel for bugs. The Armored Crest laughed to itself. The three bugs Pong found near his flat were already dead, carried from the Alvarez by Dogfight who forgot to wipe his feet.

The air temperature stagnated at an even ninety-eight degrees. Autobots tolerated it fine, but the Humans hated it and they complained incessantly. But there was little to be done except to leave the planet.

The Virus waited and debated, talking to itself. It did not know what it was doing-and it did. It played its mind games between the two Primes feeding upon energies produced by their imbalanced processors.

At least at this point 'she' understood what was happening. From this point forward, events and situations may reveal themselves in a mass of confusion. Now Pyrazhak shared the girl's mind for a while. At least here resided peace while the Virus raged elsewhere within the confines of the Matrix. It was certainly a brilliant idea, but a risky one. Pyrazhak could not afford to intermingle with the girl's consciousness for too long a time. Rusti was very self-aware and had wonderful insight. But she was limited in capacity. Sifting through massive amounts of information and assimilating more everyday would certainly cause an overload.

Dangerous but necessary.

The positive side of the situation is that it allowed 'him' to openly communicate even to those who could not Hear at all. It will be tricky to resist the temptation to completely take over.

Balance must be maintained. Balance to stabilize the girl, balance to stay alive until a solution was found.

There, outside. Another ion storm hit the shields. She smiled. Optimus knew it was better to leave the shields intact rather than taking them down. Pyrazhak watched the storm pounds and dissipate against the camp's shields. It was beautiful to listen to the frazzled light as it smashed to specks, zapping and screeching. It was beautiful because the Autobots were safe.

Somewhere along the metal plates, scanning equipment and life support systems, Rusti heard the Spiral Star chatter endlessly.

Don't be silly. Ships don't talk. And she wondered if she only dreamed of the ion storm. And what of the dead bugs found on the Armored Crest?

What?

Wait. Think back.

No, that was a dream. That was supposed to just be a dream. But she clearly remembered the bridge and the intricate designs; designs as found in the Baroque French cathedrals. And she remembered the valley expanse she was going to travel.

Rusti blinked in the dark. Did . . . did she have a death experience of some kind? Wasn't there a lady?

Grandma Carly.

What was blue fire?

The Spiral Star complained about someone hitting a door control. That wasn't nice. There was no need to hit the ship; Spiral Star was always willing to open doors for people. There's never a need to get upset. But the offender spewed several unfriendly words and Spiral Star hoped the rude individual left soon.

Rusti listened further as the ship submitted to a shield scan. All was good, all was clear. The ship spoke with a language not heard by Humans or Autobots. In fact, Rusti was sure she was the only person capable of hearing the ships actually communicate to themselves.

Spiral Star complained of cut lines and kept wondering when they were going to be repaired. It was also annoyed by one Paratron worker who kept using bleach on the floors. Then the ship laughed when someone came aboard covered with small metallic insects. It was funny, but there was also the danger of contamination.

Rusti's left handed fingers moved and stretched languidly. A smooth metal surface met her sense of touch and she did not need to see what-or who-it was.

"Did I wake you, Rusti?"

"No, the Spiral Star did." she paused a moment. "How long have you been here?

"Six hours, twenty-two minutes. I managed to sleep five point three of that."

A knowing smile touched Rusti's lips. "You got into trouble with First Aid, huh?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Cuz you sound so guilty. Did he threaten you with an inch of your life, or attempt to tie you down?

"Neither. Galvatron and Rodimus started a fight. We're lucky Magnus could get-"

"Stop. Wait. Okay, somewhere in there I heard the word 'Galvatron," she interrupted. "Is that right? Please tell me I was hearing things."

No response.

"Ohmigod. Optimus! I'll end up scraping microbial specks of you off the pavement. I'll bet Rodimus and Magnus both have gone ballistic over him." again, Rusti paused. "Waaaaait a minute. How many strays did you bring with you?

"Two."

"Two? Two Decepticons?"

"Yes."

Now Rusti attempted optical contact. "Did you want your ring back? You might need all the metal you can keep on hand."

"Ha, ha." Optimus answered sarcastically. "No. I'm sure they'll leave something of me, Rusti; just enough for data processing."

"Paperwork."

He paused. "Paperwork," he agreed.

She tried a deep breath and pain reminded her why she lay in bed, wrapped with bandages and IV's. She felt neither energetic nor glamourous at the moment. Optimus lay quiet a long moment. She sensed a heavy weariness about him. Then Rusti frowned when the Spiral Star stared to natter on about cut links. She rolled her eyes in the dark.

"Rusti?"

"Hmhmm?"

"There was a rumor that you killed Laserbeak."

"I did?

"Did you?"

"Might have. And aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

Again the Autobot leader paused. "I missed you. I missed your voice. I missed your laughter."

Rusti thought it sweet he'd say that but his words made her sad and she did not know why. She shifted her weight just enough for her body to sharply declare the girl's mortality and pent-up frustration. Distress choked her with tears. She looked away, embarrassed and ashamed.

"Rusti?" Optimus whispered.

All she could do was shake her head, unable to vocalize.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Rusti squeezed her eyes tight, struggling to control herself. She wanted to sit up and could not. "I love you," she mourned. "But I feel soooo inadequate. If something were to happen to you, I could never help. And I feel so . . . pathetic because . . . because I'm just a piece of skin. And compared to your life span, I have the longevity of a fly. And I'm sorry, Optimus. Maybe the marriage vow was wrong. Because in -I don't know-in sixty years, I'll be dead." she paused to let herself breathe. Her voice cracked. "And I won't be around to take care of you anymore." she sobbed heavily and when Prime handed her a tissue, she grabbed his hand and held him close."

Optimus laid his other hand over her head. "If I were concerned about how much time I had with you, Sweetheart, I might have done things differently. But all that's important to me is having the time and opportunity to make you happy. All I care about is the time we have."

Prime set his finger under her hand again. "You could be dead tomorrow. But all that's important to me is where we are right now." he dropped his words, swallowed by sadness and her quiet weeping. "Besides," his voice lowered close to a whisper," I very well may die before you do. I don't know how much longer Roddi and I have. We might live out the year or survive another ten."

He withdrew, moving in a silent, graceful manner.

She managed to quit crying for the moment but the tears came back. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she shuddered with a shallow sigh. "Cause I'll be honest with you, Optimus, we could never have sex."

She did not see the look of disbelief on his face. He hesitated. "I'm talking to the same girl who protected me from being assassinated by Ultra Magnus. I'm here with the same young lady who kept me company during the long dry days that I'd sit alone in my office. And I am placing my faith and trust in the same young woman who told me that I belonged to her while we stood on the Nemesis." Optimus dared a smile. "And she is the same young girl who chaperoned me to a party.'

'That isn't just love, that's devotion. And I'll be honest, Rusti, sex isn't devotion. Relationships require integrity and it is a rare and magnificent thing to find someone with enough integrity to love you in spite of your strengths and your faults. So . . . I gave you a ring to symbolize my devotion to you. I do not care how long you might live. The point is, this is my promise to you."

Rusti's tears stopped but left her tired. She studied his face in what little light illuminated the room. "I didn't get you a ring," she said simply.

"Heh . . . we can think of something later."

Magnus just completed a sign-and-date marathon on all ship log entries when First Aid contacted him. Ultra Magnus was enjoying a solid eight-hour period of blissful silence. All dynamental ducks were in a row. Most repairs were near completion.

And there came not one complaint about the Decepticons.

So it came as something of a surprise when First Aid contacted Magnus as early as six-thirty.

"I have a missing patient."

"Mm." Magnus grunted. He straightened a pile of digipads. "Optimus or Rodimus?"

"Rodimus."

"Did he rest?"

"Well ... I did not give him a choice, Ultra Magnus."

Magnus paused, perplexed. "What's that again?"

"I gave Rodimus a sedative last night."

"Oh."

"And I went to check on him at the door lock records his departure just six minutes ago."

"He can walk under his own power?"

First Aid gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes."

"Hm. Well, Fist Aid, you should know by now that once an injured Prime is able to talk, they do just that. They can't help it; it's in their programming. But if it's any consolation, I'll keep an optic out for him. Hi, Rodimus!"

Magnus cut communication with First Aid with no apology. He watched Roddi pace about the bridge of the Vertical Horizon the digipad in Magnus' hand flashed to alert him to a survey report form Cyclonus.

The Major-General begrudgingly had to admit he liked the way Cyclonus made his reports; succinct yet detailed right to the second. He used parameter measures coupled with environmental readings. Reading Cyclonus' recon report was like being there.

"Have you done anything about our Decepticon 'guests?" Rodimus asked.

Not one hint of play come through is voice. Roddi was tired and cranky; not in the mood for cracking jokes.

"No," magnus answered.

"Why not?"

"Because they're not doing anything wrong. And yes, I've kept an optic on them all night.-"

Rodimus leaned over the navigational consol, his optics flared, "You have two Decepticons roaming freely and you've done NOTHING?"

"They haven't done anything, Rodimus. Cyclonus has been submitting recon reports every twenty-one point four minutes. Galvatron is cleaning landing gear with Grotesque and Hardhead -and Jazz is supervising. Everything is fine."

"Everything is NOT FINE!" Rodimus all but leapt over the consol and kicked the pad out of Magnus' hands.

"Hey!"

Rodimus shot a finger toward the bridge doors. "All they need is a single _moment_-MAYBE not even _that_ to carry out their little job."

"I'm not happy about it either, Rodimus. But Optimus Prime seems to think they're trustworthy-"

"So you just lolly-gag and let them go and do as they please?"

Magnus glared as he retrieved the pad. "Don't think that just because I do what I'm told I go off and ignore protocol, Rodimus. This is _me_ you're talking to, not Strike Back."

"The point is, Ultra Magnus, you're still doing EXACTLY what Optimus Prime wants you to do rather than following your own convictions! Whose side are you on?"

Blaster stepped in as if on cue bearing two digipads, replacement equipment and a box of tools. Magnus pointed to the communications officer: "THEIRS!" he snarled. "Now if you'll excuse me, Rodimus, I still have things to do. If you're really irritable, then for fragging's sake take it to your partner! I'M BUSY!"

With one glance at Blaster, Roddi did just that. Blaster handed the pads and tools to Magnus. "Oh man. He sizzling his rationality circuits. You think there's gonna be a boxing match between them?

Magnus ignored Blaster until the question came up. The Major-General's optics lost their light. "Oh crap. Blaster, we need an update on all shields and power levels."

"All the ships?"

Magnus glared. "No. On all the little kids that have no earlobes. YES, ALL SHIPS! MOVE!"

Blaster bolted and Magnus started to wonder if Roddi's temper was finally rubbing onto him.

Rodimus knew going to back to the Spiral Star and picking a fight with Optimus meant another sedative from a frustrated First Aid.

Rodimus decided to just lie low and pick no fights until later-that included Galvatron. As he climbed to the top of the Racing Beast, Roddi thought how it might be a good idea to be mature enough to hear all sides of the story. He could even be smart enough to trust Optimus' judgement.

That was a cramp in his style, he decided. It was Optimus' idea to rendevous here on Cratis.

You really need to teach him a lesson, another voice suggested. After all, Op is an Autobot _leader_, a _servant_. What right does he have to put the Autobots in such dangerous and dire predicaments?

Roddi could not answer the question. He lay flat on the star cruiser's rooftop and stared at the ugly grey-brown sky.

Now that he thought of it, this was the first time he'd been able to just lie quiet and take a mental and emotional consensus of the Autobots. This was the first time things felt peaceful.

As his mind drifted aimlessly, another question crept into him: something that hadn't nagged him except in some dream long since forgotten: what exactly happened on the battlefield?

Roddi remembered anger. There was also an overwhelming sense of blood lust. He actually envisioned himself _feeding_ on his opponents.

Yes. But wasn't there something_ more_ than that? Did he not also rip someone's core right out their chest and demand a match?

What evils would he have to atone for? Rodimus realized just how tired he was of the guilt and filth.

_My spark is being used, raped and devoured by something I cannot control_. What madness possessed Optimus to think the Virus could be purged on some inaccessible planet?

Light flickered at his feet and at first, Roddi paid it no attention-that was until the face of a single-faced, oblong-headed Quintesson faded in from nowhere.

Rodimus sat up and glanced right to left to make sure he was alone. He clambered onto his knees and reached for the apparition. To his relief, that's all it was. But it stared at him with steady eyes, studying him. And when the Autobot leader moved, the Quintesson's face moved with him. Then the face blanked out, broadened, stretched and Sunstreaker's visage replace the Quintesson's countenance, but not its body.

Yuck. Rodimus winced but refused to be intimidated. "Void, knock it off. I'm in no mood for your games."

"Sssssss . . . ssssssuuunnnnnnnn. EXPLAIN SUN."

"I'm not answering!"Roddi ignored the Virus when it stretched its neck like a ribbon and peered round the Autobot's right side.

"Hey!" Roddi yelled, "Knock it off! No one knows!"

ANSWERS! ANSWERS!

The Virus did leave but now Rodimus worried that it headed for Optimus. The least I could have done was lie, he thought miserably. Not that it would have affected the Virus; Void knew when Roddi lied.

Faceless shithead.

Roddi lingered atop the Beast, unable to decide what to do. Sunstreaker's face plastered on a Quint's body was disturbing.

Autobot footfalls several feet below distracted Rodimus momentarily. Arcee, right? Sounded like her. Couldn't be anyone else. She had a narrow gait and did not swing her arms like so many other Autobots.

Another set of footprints crunched the ground, much smaller, but heavy.

Rodimus narrowed his optics, enjoying his private guessing game. He was willing to bet the little footfalls were either Dr. Arcana's. or Daniel's.

"Well look who hasn't tried to commit suicide."

Daniel. Rodimus frowned.

"What? Not so much as a greeting for me, Arcee? That guilty conscious will get the best of you."

Arcee's footsteps moved along at four paces before Daniel opened his mouth again.

"Hey! Are you _seriously_ going to be that rude to me?"

"I have nothing to say to you, Daniel."

"No. Of course not. Nothing apologetic, right? That's alright. You just haven't realized that no one else really wants anything to do with you, Arcee. You've been contaminated."

"What are you talking about?" she snarled.

"Think about it. Springer dumped you. And you know Magnus has better things to do than to be distracted by an Autobot who allowed herself to be used and controlled by a Human for years. Almost three decades, really. You're an Outsider now, Arcee. No matter where you go or who you're with. Everyone will know you as the Human's Autobot toy."

"I'm not listening, Daniel-"

"But you already _have_. My DNA will always be found somewhere in your body . . . you stimulated me, Arcee-"

"STOP IT!" she screamed. "How can you say things like that?!"

"You know they're true."

Rodimus heard enough. He slid down the Beast's starboard wing frame-connect and approached them. The moment she saw Roddi, Arcee bolted ten feet, transformed and raced away.

Rodimus did not bother to drop to one knee for a closer look. "Dan-o!" he greeted with disingenuous cheer. "Tell me something, does being an asshole come naturally to you, or do you actually work at it?"

Daniel glowered.

"Okay. Well, bit of advice, Dan-o: keep your hands and your mouth to yourself, okay?"

Witwicky rolled his eyes and started walking away. "Whatever."

If there was a time that Rodimus wanted to step on someone . . .

Darkness swirled in a universe of black so terrible and so deep no shape held it. Like a black hole or a gravity well, it swallowed everything: the universe, the galaxies, star clusters, solar systems, continents, people, ideas and existence.

This was the soul and spark of absolute evil; the end of life. Not emotion, thought, imagination or sapience of any sort escaped the rotating arms of the spiraling darkness.

If this spiraling Darkness devoured Life, how could it exist itself?

Optimus sat at the horizon of the spiraling darkness. A Faceless thing that consumed, growing moment by moment, ever so slowly, encroached across the microcosm that was the Matrix. He watched it rotate, darkness within Dark; anti-life.

It unnerved him to think Faceless Darkness began to learn. It now had a vocabulary. It knew the difference between the two Primes. It asked questions.

Did animals ask questions? And if so, was it beyond physical needs? Mulling it over, Optimus decided that indeed, animal life forms had enough self-consciousness to ask questions beyond the moment.

It meant Void was not animal and not a microbe and not sentient. What was it? And how did it start?

Come to think of it, Optimus never thought to ask its origins. The question never quite made it to his mind, not when he was so occupied with denying its existence.

Optimus' optics narrowed. "I liked you better when you were nothing more than a program," he said aloud.

The Swirling Darkness stopped churning and the center of it rose and reformed itself into Void's faceless head. It grew and lifted its legs from the no-space. Void was so much larger than when Optimus first encountered it. Was there a limit to its size? Was there a limit to how much it could devour of the Matrix? Even empty, the Matrix's presence pulsated. Not visible, it was still there, still aware.

Understanding anything about the Matrix meant accepting the fact that just because a thing cannot be seen, does not mean it was not real.

Void's facelessness scrutinized Optimus Prime. AT A TIME. BECOME YOU.

It licked his right arm and the Autobot lost resistance. He wondered how long it would before he lost his self-consciousness to Void. He wondered if, by accessing the Matrix, Void would find a way to . . .

He activated his optics, finding himself stretched out on the floor next to Rusti. She slept soundly and he wondered what dreams she walked through. Optimus hoped not one of her dreams included Void in any fashion.

The thought of her falling victim to the monster grieved him to his core. But he could not decide if Rusti was safer near him or far away.

Unfortunately, this just wasn't the time to consider that notion. Optimus rose, managing to stay quiet. He did not want to leave her. But he was, after all, responsible for everyone else. Wishing her sweet dreams, he left the room in silence.

His internal chronometer told him it was close to two PM in Oregon. He wondered if Oregon was even still habitable.

Making his way down the hall, Optimus Prime almost passed room 117 when something caused him to pause and beckon him inside.

He tentatively opened the door and peered inside. Trinket greeted him with a finger to her lip components, signaling him to stay quiet. She linked into the internal comlines:

"He's finally settled down."

Prime gazed at the berth and recognized Springer. He approached the sleeping wrecker then silently looked to the Autobot medic.

"He was sliced in half, Optimus," she explained over the com. "We thought he was dead-and should have died. I think we should change his name to 'Nails'. His attacker missed his core by inches."

"How are his life signs, Trinket?"

She smiled sadly before reaching for a digipad. "Stronger than yours, unfortunately. I expect him to be awake and complaining of boredom in two to three days."

Optimus returned her smile lightly. "I'll be sure to send him a video game." Her smile broadened and he left, glad to get a least one fraction of good news.

Then Prime thought of Sunstreaker and decided to take a detour before heading toward the Sagittarian Mozart.

Optimus was not surprised to find Sideswipe keeping vigil over his injured brother. The Lambro twin did not greet his leader, however, with more than a momentary glance. Sideswipe sat backwards in his chair, arms and chin draped over the seat's back.

Prime picked up Sunny's chart and flinched just a bit when he felt a rebound from Roddi through the Matrix.

First a confrontation with Daniel, then one with an irate Strike Back.

[[_He doesn't think it was fair of you to incarcerate him._]] Rodimus expressed directly.

[[_I'm tired of being his parent, Rodimus._]] Prime returned. [[_tell Strike back if he wants to attend today's . . . discussion, he can start out by apologizing to you._]]

[[_Meeting?_]]

Optimus knew Rodimus knew what he meant. It was time to put all the chips on the board to exorcize demons and discuss where the Autobots should do and go next. [[_The Mozart. It's got the best-_]]

[[_yeah, I know. Magnus ordered the furniture-_]]

A serpent of bitter dark slipped from Rodimus to Optimus and the Senior Prime winced, feeling the bite of Viral poison nip at his core. Optimus stared at Sunstreaker's chart, neither reading nor paying attention to Sideswipe's mournful words.

_Two Autobot leaders walking on the line . . ._

Rodimus stood outside Strike Back's cell as the city commander carried on about the unfairness of life in general, their situation specifically, and the two Primes in particular. But Roddi's mind had fallen to the same chasm of darkness. He stood at the horizon of the Viral black hole and stared at the mouth of non-existence.

_Now I lay me down to sleep._

_No god heard; my spark did weep._

Teeth, claws and poison tugged at Optimus' laser core. It tugged; sharp, biting. It tugged; trying to tear his innards out.

The inhibitor chip was broken.

Primus remained ever silent.

Cratis moaned in fear and the Matrix roused in impatient ire.

Without the help of wind, dirty clouds skittered along the sky. Cyclonus and Dogfight landed to watch as the Cratian sun peeked through holes in the brown sky.

On a far off valley the ground churned as though it were cookie dough kneaded by an invisible hand.

_Two Autobot leaders walking on the line_

_they teetered and danced without a mind_

_they begged and prayed_

_their people be saved_ . . .

Optimus remembered Primus' throne room. He remembered the argument between Primus and another.

_The irresponsibility of a parent-god._

_And once again Primus turned his back._

_Trion won._

_There was . . ._

_There was a card game._

_Itty bitty cards._

_It was with Rusti._

_Itty bitt cards and they had colors on them._

Uno?

_No._

_Candy Land?_

_Memory?_

Memory.

Yes, it was a memory game and it was Optimus' turn.

He had a yellow card. A card as yellow as the sun.

And there . . . she was singing, wasn't she? That's what content little girls do.

She poured for him a cup of tea.

Not real tea. Autobots don't drink tea, but Rusti explained to him that wasn't the point.

Void hissed. WHAT POINT HAVING WHEN NON-EXISTENT?

You're not supposed to ask those kinds of questions.

She was humming and set plastic fruit on his plate while he held the yellow card.

An old man and his thumb.

Void hissed at the jumble of Swiss-cheese logic.

IRRELEVANT

The dog's bone.

Void hissed. It hated the yellow card. It spat at the tea.

It hated because it did not understand.

Tea that was not real and a yellow card and the man's thumb.

Sideswipe asked Optimus if everything was okay because the Autobot leader picked up Sunstreaker's chart and stared at it for twenty minutes.

Then the warrior almost freaked when Optimus spoke a child's rhyme.

And the moment tumbled from bad to worse when Optimus softly began to sing. Not because Sideswipe never heard Optimus sing, but because faces pushed their way out of every solid surface around him-even down from the ceiling where a pair of lightless eyes stared at him in freakish curiosity.

_This old man . . . he played one_

_. . . nick-knack patty whack_

_. . . the doggy broke his bones._

Then Optimus laughed. "It's not the man's thumb, Roddi," he said out loud.

Sideswipe stared, mortified. "Prime . . . Roddi's not here."

"Of course he is, Sideswipe. And it wasn't the man's thumb at all, but my own."

[[_Why does it have to be yours?_]]

Prime shrugged. "We can use yours, Rodimus. You know, it doesn't matter to me."

_Nick-knack, patty-whack_

"What's a patty-whack?"

Strike Back stepped from the cell's entrance, his expression the same as Sideswipe's. Rodimus looked through him, not at him and Rodimus had almost no color in his optics.

"No," Prime corrected. "Listen, it's a counting song:

_The old man_

_who played one_

_he played nick-knack on . . .your thumb_

_with a nick-knack, patty-whack_

_the doggy broke his bone_

_the old man went rolling home._

Rodimus thought it carefully through. "The patty-whack might be a weapon if the dog used it to break the old man's bones."

That did not sound right at all. Why would someone at the age of six sing about a dog breaking bones?

Prime's optics now focused on the digipad in his hands. Sunstreaker's name glared from the top. All his stats lined down the screen like dutiful soldiers.

But the numbers were ugly.

"I'm so sorry, Sunstreaker," Prime said softly. "I will see what we can do."

All he picked up was radiated anger.

Prime turned his attention to Sideswipe who now stood at the other end of the room. The look on his face told Prime the situation was worsening. Void was attacking more frequently, more intensely.

Were it not for that memory . . . the yellow card-it dawned on him why the yellow card was so important; it was the one card in the set that did not have a match. The game Rusti had was defective.

We made it a brother card for it a few days later, Prime thought.

He returned the chart to its place at Sunstreaker's berth and gave Sideswipe one more gaze. "I'm sorry, Sideswipe." he said gently.

Sideswipe watched his leader depart through the doors before sliding to the floor in wordless despair.

**Pt 10: Staff Meeting**

Crossy greeted several members of the senior staff as she finished the detail on the Sagittarian Mozart. She forced a smile when Magnus arrived. He limped slightly and his finish displayed terrible blows dealt him during the battle.

But he still never missed a thing. "Not so bad, Crossy," he approved.

Her smile strengthened. Does this mean I'm almost done, sir?"

"Magnus glanced at the Armored Crest then turned toward the Frostbite.

He smiled.

She did not.

The Frostbite's entire exterior needed work. Magnus produced three digipads from subspace. "Nope. Sorry, soldier. A job worth doing . . ."

"Is worth doing well," she grumped.

Optimus sat at one end of the table while Roddi occupied the other.

Magnus, Jazz, Gryph, Strike Back and Titanium took up the middle. Quasar and Perceptor sat on either side of Rodimus while Trinket and Brainstorm sat next to Optimus.

As EDC staff took their places, Magnus leaned across the conference table and glared at Strike Back. "Do us all a favor," the Major-General said, "keep your mouth shut."

Strike Back glanced at Titanium to see if he was tuned into the semi-private conversation. "Or what?" he dared.

Magnus glowered in such a way as to say 'you should not have to ask.'

Rodimus stood from his end of the table. "Is everyone here? No? Good. Let's go home-" he cut himself off the second Galvatron and Cyclonus stepped into the room. Roddi's optics flared. The two Decepticons took up space against the wall behind Prime while Grotesque kept a watchful optic on them.

It now occurred to Rodimus that Galvatron looked very different from what he remembered-oh-the cannon. Galvatron no longer sported that garish copper cannon. Weaponless or not, Rodimus was not about to let go either of his grudge or his guard.

Void hissed in his right ear.

Blue quickly stepped into the meeting room and proffered two digipads for Optimus. He glanced at them then pointed to Roddi. As Blue made her way round the table, Rodimus noted a quick exchange of glances between Galvatron and Prime and felt less than easy.

UNREQUIRED TWO PRIMES

"Hush," Rodimus admonished Void's suggestion.

TRAITOR PRIME. FIRST: GIRL. NOW INVADERS.

"Sh!"

"Eh?" Perceptor asked next to him.

Rodimus gave him a sheepish grin. "Nothing."

Blue displayed the same pads she offered to Optimus. Recon schedules set for the day blinked in three lines. Rodimus quickly glanced over the shifts and personnel and nodded his approval.

Optimus pushed against the back of his seat. He detected animosity, anger, rage, doubt, mistrust and from one source, loathing. But he could not pinpoint anything and for a moment, he could look no one in the optics. Second by second, however, he regained his poise and ordered his reactions and emotions under complete control.

Void mocked him.

NEVER LAST ENOUGH. THEY HATE.

Prime tilted his head to the right as inconspicuously as possible and dimmed his optics. _Later_, he firmly told it.

The Virus hissed its defiance. NOT LONG.

Prime pretended to look to Grotesque, but what he really did was reach for the strength of someone's character. With that reassurance, Optimus diverted his attention to Magnus. "I'd like to start by thanking Ultra Magnus for keeping everything updated from ship status reports to supplies and rations. I'm sorry you could not do it from the Spiral Star, Ultra Magnus."

Being around Rodimus for so many months non-stop, Ultra Magnus almost forgot about Optimus' tendency toward formality. Magnus realized if anyone ever tried to put a Human suit of any kind on Roddi, he'd die of 'formalized strangulation' and the Major-General allowed himself a slight smile. "The task was understandably necessary, Prime. And it got me off the Spiral Star's medical rations."

Magnus was instantly scrutinized by both Primes. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Nothing," they said in stereo. Neither Prime wanted to blurt out their amazement that Magnus cracked an unintentional joke.

Strike Back slammed his fist on the table, rudely disrupting the moment. He stood and pointed at Optimus Prime: "That's it. You're evading the real issue here! How dare you contaminate us with these rust-plagued pinx?" Strike Back firmly ignored Magnus' acidic glare.

"I'll apologize for nothing," Prime answer sternly "were it not for Galvatron and Cyclonus, I would never have made it here."

"Great!" Strike Back blurted. "You brought them here, assuming we'd consider they'd be cute enough to adopt. I don't like strays-they're dirty and carry diseases."

Galvatron grunted over that one. The Autobots erupted in a commotion of comments and opinions until Titanium slammed the table and stood, pointing at the Decepticons. "Those two should be immediately tried and executed and YOU!"-here he pointed at Prime-"should be locked up!"

Jazz jumped, "Hey! Chill out!"

Prime took it in stride, "It's alright, Jazz. Everyone is on edge."

Strike Back slumped, "Strange, you don't look it." he muttered.

Prime heard him but chose not to acknowledge. "Galvatron and Cyclonus are here as my guests. Were it not for them, I would have not escaped Mars. I would be a captive of the Inoux . . . and most likely dead. I owe them sanctuary."

Titanic and Magnus took to their feet simultaneously. "This is outrageous!' Magnus spat first. "Twenty-five years ago you would not have hesitated to put _any_ Decepticon in prison. Now you let them run freely around the camp? Armed? All they have to do is make a call and Decetron and those lunatics he calls an army will be here-and it won't take much to wipe us out."

"Magnus is right!" Titanium added "what makes you think no Autobot here would not be glad to vaporize them?

Optimus remained calm: "Galvatron and Cyclonus have no more affiliation with Decetron than I. And in case you have not noticed, Galvatron no longer wields a cannon. And neither of them have said or done a single thing to rouse anyone's ire or suspicion. Even you made a comment on Cyclonus' recon reports."

Magnus used both fists to pound the table, "THAT'S NOT THE GOD-DAMNED POINT!"

Kup stood: "they're a danger to everyone here-"

Jazz: "They's Decepticons!"

Strike Back: "I can't believe you'd betray us like this!"

Convoy: "They're a danger to our Human friends."

Strike Back: "Never mind, I'll deal with it!" He leapt over Jazz, weapon in hand set to vaporize two Decepticons he despised more than anything else. But he did not count on Prime's own speed and strength and before he felt the blow, Strike Back lay on the floor, armor dented. He examined the area of pain and realized Prime struck him-HIM to defend a pair of WORTHLESS Decepticons.

The Autobots had been betrayed.

The room fell silent with shock and someone applauded. Galvatron approached the table, still clapping hands until he had everyone attention. "My! What a wonderful group of chivalrous noble people we have here!" the Decepticon grinned at Strike Back. "Please, don't bother getting up. I'm quite comfortable with your hostile, judgmental behavior. It seems the tables have turned at the last. I feared I would have to protect your leader from mobs of rogue Decepticons but it is Optimus Prime who is forced to protect me from hostile Autobots. I find it mildly amusing only because the lot of you are ignoring the more pressing and obvious problem."

The former Decepticon leader stared first at Magnus then at Rodimus. "We're not your enemies," he said firmly. "And the lot of you disgust me with your sore lack of respect for your leaders."

EDC officer Buell Molleson stood from her seat, pointing at Galvatron: "You should speak so, Galvatron. Respect means nothing to you. How do you answer to your crimes? Murder, genocide, enslavement, terrorism-the list is longer than my life span. How can you stand there pointing fingers at us when you are a monster? Do you deny your faulty reputation?"

"No," Galvatron replied instantly. "I'm guilty of everything you said and worse. I don't deserve any kind of leniency-and I don't ask for it." Galvatron took a step back and gazed at his companion. "But I do ask it for Cyclonus."

"Ooooh! My aren't we noble!"

"Give me a break!"

"Preposterous."

"No Decepticon deserves it!"

"This is ridiculous!"

"Do you think we're stupid?"

Optimus stood, palms flat on the table, "I am not asking anyone here to placate to Galvatron and Cyclonus. I am not asking you to be friends. But I am asking you to give them a benefit of a doubt."

Rodimus locked icy optics with Prime. He said nothing and did not move until now, watching others voice his opinion. "After all the crap we've been through you come to us and DARE to ask us to trust your new friends?" the sneer on Roddi's face turned deadly and he rose from the table. "Do you know how much devastation he's caused? Who do you think you are to give refuge to CRIMINALS?!" Rodimus passed Cloudstreaker. Liquid darkness lined the edges of his optics. "Isn't it enough we're against the Quintessons and some species of alien we've never encountered before? Isn't it enough that we've lost people, homes, cities-OUR WAY OF LIFE?!

Optimus could not move. For him, the room and all occupants faded from reality; it was just he and Rodimus. And Roddi's voice drowned with Viral fury. It hissed as he spoke and it goaded Optimus:

NOT EVEN YOUR RODIMUS. NOT EVEN A REAL PRIME. BLASPHEME.

But somewhere else, Optimus heard someone call him back.

Void snorted. MINE

Optimus' mind turned hazy. "I am indebted to Galvatron and Cyclonus," he insisted.

TRAITOR! LIAR!

Rodimus attacked with a blur of motion. Optimus reacted with a punch hard enough to send anyone else against the ship's bulkhead. But Rodimus only stumbled back three steps.

He made it look like he was going for a spear but in the middle of his move, Rodimus swung up and around to deliver a shot from his heel to the side of Optimus' helm as Rodimus rounded to his feet, Optimus fell and caught Roddi's hands so that he landed on his chest and chin. Rodimus rolled and whacked Optimus with the side of his hand, catching Optimus just below the silver piece below his chest, above the grill.

The strike stunned Optimus long enough for Roddi to pin him down.

MINE. EVERYTHING. ALL. THE MIND. THE SOUL. THE SPARK. THE MATRIX. GIVE TO ME.

With a burst of power, Optimus rolled him off and would have attacked had something else not held him back. Prime growled and struggled.

Rodimus sprang for an attack, also, but he too could get no further. He snarled and struggled, even hissed Optimus' name with a voice not his own.

The moment Rodimus leapt to attack Optimus, all Autobots jumped out of their chairs. The two slammed into the table then Rodimus kicked Optimus.

Galvatron studied all the other Autobots, all of whom were stunned into inaction.

The punch Optimus delivered had to hurt but Rodimus acted like he did not even feel it. And the second Optimus kicked his partner off, Galvatron intervened by grabbing the Senior Prime from behind, securing him from under the shoulder struts.

Magnus took that opportunity and leapt clear over the conference table and grabbed Rodimus and dragged him back a few feet. Both Autobot leaders still tried to get at each other, struggling and growling.

Galvatron looked to Magnus. "This problem, Magnus, is by far a greater threat to the Autobots than me and Cyclonus."

Magnus glowered. "We don't need your help, Galvatron."

"Oh no?" Galvatron suddenly released Optimus who charged blindly for Rodimus. Titanium jumped to restrain the Autobot leader.

One kick to the mandible. One back-handed strike and Titanium was lifted like a bail of hay and dropped to the table.

Galvatron caught the enraged Autobot leader again, "Prime," he whispered, "it's _talking_ to you."

At once, Optimus' resistance failed and he wilted, surrendering to Galvatron's grip.

Cloudstreaker cried out as the Virus rose up from the table's metal surface, tugging its legs through the molecules.

Rodimus also relented against Magnus and gazed at the four-legged monster. It hissed at Optimus and acted as though it were sniffing for something. Its hideous head arched to Prime's face then moved up to stare at Galvatron.

Void whispered then retracted its long neck. It tapped toward Cloudstreaker and gazed left to right until it zeroed on her.

"Go away!" she whispered.

WHAT SPACE. CONFUSING.

Cloudstreaker could not look at the thing. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

TRICKY DECEPTION. WHAT SPACE . . . CONFUSING?

Then she realized what it was talking about. She looked at it square-on.

Rodimus slumped weakly against Magnus. "Don't tell it anything."

Cloudstreaker picked up her courage and dared to bluff: "Go away," she hoarsely whispered. She saw her reflection upon the Virus' dark surface. "Go away or I'll send you _back!_"

Void hesitated before hissing at her. It folded its form into a two-dimensional shape and slipped into a line break in the floor.

Stunned silence cloaked the room until Rodimus pushed himself to his feet.

Gryph spoke for everyone: "What the Pitt was that all about?"

Rodimus nailed Cloudstreaker with his optics, "I'd like to know, too."

Trinket crawled out from under the table, digipad in hand. "I don't know what it was talking about but at least _this_ time I was able to get some readings."

Perceptor turned to Cloudstreaker. "This is a disturbing new development, Cloudstreaker. According to Optimus and Rodimus, the Matrix Virus has almost never shown interest in anyone else. And it certainly has never asked a question."

All optics lay on the Autobot femme and she felt both self-conscious and out of place. She could not look at any of them. "I . . It was during the battle the lighting storm came and-I mean-something brought it-and I opened a subspace field and-"

both Primes stared at her, astounded. Rodimus glanced from her to Trinket and back. "You locked it into subspace? How?"

Cloudstreaker felt horrible. "I can't remember. I-I fell unconscious and I can't seem to remember what I did."

Trinket broke in, nodding to herself, "It did not seem to like you very much, Galvatron. I noticed how you confused it."

Galvatron sent her a debonaire smile, "I've always had a certain knack with alien life forms they cannot help but to submit to me."

Rodimus took up his chair and several others followed suit. "She said 'confuse', not charm, Galvatron. And you have the charm of a cinder block."

"Well, you're not my type anyway, Rodimus. I prefer the strong, silent sort and you can't keep your trap closed long enough to keep the flies out."

"If me and my flies annoy you so much, Galvatron, then I'd welcome you to find some other place to lurk: like the nearest water treatment plant. I hear they're always looking for volunteers to take a dip."

"I'll do the jokes around here, Roller-boy. Fried Autobot processor is not something these fine folk need to smell at the moment."

Magnus shot Galvatron a dirty look. "If the two of you are done, I'd like to suggest we accomplish _something_ before First Aid comes flying in to give everyone a check up."

Trinket clicked off her digipad and reclined in her chair. "seems to me that Galvatron and Cyclonus have a vested interest in this, Rodimus. I'd like them to stay so I can analyze the Virus' reaction. I might discover something valuable."

Chairs were brought back to the table and everyone settled down. All optics rested on Rodimus who slumped in his chair like a rag doll. He mused, spun lazily from side to side. His optics studied the ceiling until he could not take the silence.

"ALRIGHT!" Prime exploded. "He can stay, for cryin' out loud! I'm not the bad guy here! And I _refuse_ to be pegged as one." Rodimus leaned over, his face hard, optics narrow and bright. "But if we're going to let a pair of Decepti-goons loose, there'd better be some rules."

"Very well," Optimus agreed. "Rules."

RULES FOR GALVATRON AND CYCLONUS WHILE WITH THE AUTOBOTS:

Outside the camp is off limits-unless Cyclonus is scheduled for recon/patrol duty. They must have a chaperon with them at all times.

"-Excuse me?" Rodimus broke in. "Eh, who's supposed to be the chaperon? Why don't we keep this simple and lock them up?"

Optimus eyed him, irritated. "I'd rather have their help than assign someone to watch them sit. I think Ultra Magnus has appreciated their help this far."

Reluctantly, Magnus nodded.

Roddi grunted and waved it off. "Whatever. But that doesn't answer my question."

Optimus had no immediate answer. A few choices shot through his head; none of them really fit the bill: Magnus, Jazz, himself . . . they all had to be elsewhere and while Prime was sure he could trust several people NOT to blow Galvatron and Cyclonus to kingdom come, he feared they'd not treat the Decepticons fairly. They needed someone more . . . neutral.

"We'll get to that in a moment," the Senior Prime pressed on:

No weapons. Period. They will do whatever asked of them. No name calling, no picking fights of ANY kind. Humans are off-limits.

Autobots:

Again Rodimus interjected. "Huh? What's that? You're making rules for the Autobots?"

"Is that a problem?" Prime tested.

"Well, it's just that . . . we were here first and they're . . ."

"Guests."

"_Your_ guests," Rodimus corrected.

"I want their safety guaranteed." Prime countered.

Convoy leaned forward. "Are you suggesting the Autobots can't be trusted with . . . with _your_ friends?"

Prime stared her squarely in the face, "Galvatron and Cyclonus saw to it I got here safely. How can I treat them any differently?"

Confusion clouded Convoy's expression. She shook her head and sat back, mulling over the situation.

No picking fights with Galvatron and Cyclonus.

"Duh." Rodimus snarled.

No name-calling. Nothing is to be thrown at them. The chaperon is permitted to protect the Decepticons in case someone decides to break the preceding rules-

"Hey!" Rodimus jumped again. "What happens if those two break the rules?"

"Then we'd have a riot and they'd be executed before I can stop it from happening." Prime said it so matter-of-fact that Rodimus took it well and settled again. "We still don't have a chaperon." Roddi paused then shot Prime a sharp glance. "And NO, it's NOT going to be me. I have better things to do than to play babysitter!" He shot a glare at Galvatron.

Optimus wordlessly glanced person to person, senior staff, Autobot, EDC, and Headmaster alike. But everyone either perused everyone else or found some spot in the room of greater interest.

Somehow Optimus Prime was not surprised. Attitudes wrought from ages-long racial memories bred deep mistrust and resentment; too great to be overridden with forgiveness in a single day. After all, Optimus himself did not trust his companions so readily.

Galvatron finally pushed himself from a dark corner in the room. "I have a small suggestion."

It was all Titanium and Magnus could do to keep Rodimus from tearing into the former Decepticon leader.

* *

A distant scream summoned Rusti from slumber. At first she thought it was a siren; fire, ambulance or police.

Wait. Not her room. Where on Fort Max was she?

Lights reading her life signs indicated medical equipment surrounded her.

Oh. Right. The Spiral Star.

The moment that occurred to her, Rusti heard the ship converse with itself again. Then, surprisingly, it communicated with the Dancing Siren. First Aid made a personnel exchange to give his assistants a six-hour break. That meant the offending Paratron and his bleach were reassigned.

Joy.

A 'volunteer-nurse' stepped into Rust's room with a digipad connected to a tray. Even in poor lighting, Rusti perceived the alien woman's weariness. But upon eye contact, the 'nurse' lit up.

"Oh look at you here, Sweet One! Finally up and back to reality!"

Rusti managed a trembling smile.

"How are you, Deary?"

The female alien's voice indicated she was a little closer to Netty's age which meant Rusti would have to be civil with her words: "Um, okay, I guess. I can't move my left arm very well."

"The doctor's put a restrainer on it for a while. We're still waiting for the doom-a-flitchy to patch you up." from the tray, the assistant produced a thermometer and stuck it into Rusti's ear.

"How long do I have to wait? I'm dying of chronic boredom here."

"Are you, now?" her voice sharpened. "Well, I wish we could put you to work, helping out with little Abry Foster's broken back. Or mayhaps you'd like to change catheters while six patients recover from damaged skulls. There's also ol' feisty Mrs. Laura Carter who's waiting while the regenerator rebuilds her liver, her gall bladder and her left ear."

Rusti smiled ruefully. "I wish I could. But I can't walk, can't use my left arm or speak more than one language."

The nurse turned to sarcasm: "Oooh! Aren't we the smarty pants?" Rusti suspected the alien nurse was from Fort Sagittarius. She took Rusti's blood pressure from the other side. "How's about we give you the ship's specs and you can study the workings of the Spiral Star? Of course, it'll be written in Autobot."

Roddi's influence found its way to her mouth: "Does it come with pornography?"

The nurse exited, speechlessly mortified.

That was also the extent of her visitors. Rusti lay alone in near-dark, listening to anything that reached her ears. The Spiral Star chattered on about nothing. This person came, those people left. Trash accumulated in this waste room, there were too many people on the bridge.

Boredom ate its way into her skull. Two to three hours passed. She slept and ate one light meal.

Food! What would she not be willing to trade for a good steak dinner or pizza! McDonald's would be the essence of Heaven. Bongo & Jacks made THE best shakes in Central City. Rusti would take their icky greasy fried fish even if the fries were cold.

Thoughts of home brought tears to her eyes. Everyone was homesick and questions of returning to Earth popped up like Mexican jumping beans; sudden and frequent.

Rusti drifted to sleep then woke again. The door to her room stood slightly ajar. Light, noises and conversations drifted in but nothing sounded stimulating. Even bad TV would be salvation. Rusti now considered taking the nurse's offer regarding the Spiral Star's tech specs. At least she'd see what areas the ship reported on.

No, Rusti did not read Autobot. Her ability to speak it was an offset freak of nature. Transformers spoke in complicating, overlapping sentences. In a sense, they spoke a three-dimensional language that utilized action, reason and logic on one level while expressing emotion, reason and action on a second level. The two levels, verbalized in words, were coupled with frames of mathematics on another level of communication. Misinterpretation of communication was rare among Transformers unless something was not received.

"Spiral," Rusti moaned out loud, "the least you could do is play some music for me."

The Autobot star cruiser silently requested an explanation.

"Music," Rusti repeated. "As in tunes, sounds or-"

she cut herself off when the door shut, casting the room into near-dark. A figure emerged from the door and approached her. The shadowy substance had a head but no visible face. It had arms and legs but it moved more like an apparition and out of synchronized reality because its motion blurred.

Rusti stared, dumbfounded. It was not Void-at least that she could tell. But the scene made her terribly uneasy.

The apparition came right to her bedside and because it was transparent, Rusti told herself it was either a ghost, an illusion or a dream; it could not harm her.

Now a face turned to her. The skin of what might have been a healthy young alien female appeared thin and grey. Her sunken eyes were hollowed out by horror. Scars lined down her cheeks, ending with electrode patch marks. Her swollen lips bore needle holes not dissimilar from what Rusti had during her captivity with the Quintessons. But this girl's lips were split and morbidly infected.

The apparition moved her mouth but no sound came. Rusti wanted to recoil but could not move. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping she'd wake and find Optimus sleeping beside her.

She dared a peek.

The apparition still stood there, speaking without talking.

"Stop it!" Rusti ordered. "Go away. Leave me alone!"

It still spoke; wordless, bodiless, lifeless.

"I SAID GO AWAY!" She moved. Pain shot from pierced chest and broken bone to her gut. Rusti hissed inward. She spat profanity, angry and frustrated. Breathing made it worse.

Calm down, breathe shallow. Tears fell into her hair and down her neck.

_In the naked light I saw . . . _

_The deathly pale scream._

_In the naked light I saw_

_things that shouldn't be . . . _

_I am contaminated._

_I am contaminated_

Rusti struggled to control her reaction. "Stop," she begged in a whisper. "Just go away."

_I am contaminated_.

Rusti looked away and laid her right hand along her face. She struggled to control herself, struggled to not see or hear the ghastly illusion.

Her door, not closed as she thought, made way for more light and outside noise. The illusion disappeared as stronger light chased out the dark.

Dr. Zornoy entered, a portable, circular machine rolled in behind him. The room's lights flicked to life, blinding her momentarily. "Good morning, young lady. How you be-oh, not feeling well, are we?"

Rusti could not answer him.

"Mm. A bit of breakfast might be in order, then, possibly?" Zornoy paused then smiled "Yes, breakfast is better."

Rusti said nothing, vaguely listening as he called an assistant to bring something to eat. Zornoy examined the gash in her left shoulder. "No infection," he surmised. "Is good. Your sadness: not so good. Come now, Miz Witwicky, tell an old alien what has stolen your smile."

She choked as frustration bubbled up. "I just want the stupid illusions and dreams to stop."

Zornoy nodded. "Hallucinations? Dr. Arcana tells me you're Matrix-sensitive. Too much Witwicky blood in your veins, eh?" that earned him a slight smile. "Ah. So, now, are you willing to tell me, or shall I make a series of stoo-pid guesses while you eat?"

She tried to read him to decide whether or not to speak the truth. Rusti decided to trust him: "Some times I can hear the ship speak. Sometimes I envision someone warning me against something.

"What kind of warning?"

She did not get to answer him before one of Zornoy's volunteer-nurses brought in a tray.

"Hmmm . . . powdered eggs with oatmeal and Pop Tarts. Do I get one?" Zornoy aimed for the tray but the lady swept it out of his reach and onto Rusti's lap.

"Not this time, Doctor."

Powdered eggs. Rusti stared at her plate and decided the menu really wasn't all that bad. At least it was food. She scooped eggs onto the Pop Tart and the first bite told her she was hungrier than she thought.

"Aye . . . she's already having the eggs." Zornoy observed sadly. "I guess I'll have to attend another early-morning patient for the next opportunity."

Rusti arched her brows, uncertain whether or not the alien doctor was joking.

The assistant eyed him with admonishment. "I think Miss Witwicky would prefer you fix her first."

"See?" Zornoy threw his hands up. "Always being pushed around by the staff. And if it's not the staff, it's one of the Primes. Yes, yes, come in, Optimus Prime I know you're laughing at my ghastly inability to talk my patients out of their eggs. Yes. Sad."

Rusti grinned as the Autobot stepped in [[_is this guy for real? Powdered eggs and all?_]]

[[V_ery much so._]]

Rusti paused before spooning oatmeal to examine her love. "That's a face I never tire of seeing." she said out loud. "What time is it, Optimus?"

"Eight-twenty A.M. Pacific standard. But I don't know what time it is here. I never bothered to adjust my chronometer."

Zornoy loudly and impatiently sighed.

Rusti took the hint and worked on her breakfast. Optimus settled on his knees before her so as to say out of the doctor's way. Zornoy tended his machine and the extension.

Rusti," Prime said quietly, "I need to ask a favor of you."

She froze in the middle of a mouthful, staring suspiciously. Her eyes now caught scruff marks along the left side of his helm where Rodimus kicked him. There were slight dents along the underside of his shoulders where he struggled against Galvatron's grip.

Rusti sipped a small cup of juice. "You . . . weren't fighting with Roddi, were you?"

The Autobot leader squirmed so slightly Zornoy and his lady assistant did not notice. But knowing his body language as she did, Rusti scrutinized him.

"Well . . . technically it wasn't a fight. Not a real fight, anyway."

"Uh-huh." Rusti dabbed the corner of her mouth with a moist towelette. "So define _real_ fight, Optimus."

"It was a _skirmish_-not the same thing. In a real fight, we'd be bleeding."

Rusti ran her tongue along her teeth. Her eyes did not leave him. She pushed her plate away and drained her juice. "Okay. Well, you guys are not allowed to fight anymore." she caught his ever-so-slight smile. "Period!" she insisted.

"Okay."

It was a mostly-promise. Under the circumstances, Rusti knew it was the best he could offer.

Zornoy leaned across the girl and tugged on a crevice in the wall beside her. A hidden compartment opened upward and a flat bar of metal slid out. The bar lowered just enough for her to reach. "Here we go, now. Miz Witwicky. Hands on the bar. Stay still. It'll be warm."

Rusti tried to stretch. Pain sliced up her left back side and tore into surrounding nerves. She cried out and froze. Then she made the mistake of attempting to move her left hand around to support the area of pain. That pulled on the wound in her chest. Her whole body screamed for her to be still. She sobbed, agonized by painful bites and stabs.

"Aye, must take it all slowly there, Miz Not-So-Good." Zornoy cranked the bed up as far as it sat then laid a long hand over Rusti's upper back. "Yeah. Now slow."

She tried gain, this time with her eyes on her love before her.

"Yes!" Zornoy approved, "Now lean to your right."

Sitting up and grasping the bar was difficult enough. Rusti did not think she could stretch the left side. "THIS HURTS!" she gasped and panted shallow.

"Little more."

[[_I am so sorry, Sweetheart._]] Optimus offered his hand as tears ran down her face. Rusti took hold of his fingers, held her breath and obeyed.

"No, no. don't hold your breath. This must be accurate."

She breathed shallow while Zornoy set a three-piece sheet of metal against her side. He removed it.

"Aye, she has a shorter area. Let me make an adjustment here. Miz Witwicky. You'll need to swipe the gown from the side there."

As Zornoy adjusted the size of the panels, the assistant rounded him and folded the top away from the young woman's side. Rusti squeezed her eyes and tried to swallow the pain. It cut off her ability to breathe.

"You need to keep breathing, Rusti." the alien assistant softly ordered.

[[_I wish I could help._]] Optimus said inwardly.

[[_You're here. How could I want more?_]] She cried out as Zornoy secured the panels against the deep injury.

"Okay. Okay. Almost there."

His promise did not stay her tears or help her breathe. Her whole body tensed and she gripped Prime's hand as tightly as she could.

The machine made an initial grinding noise as it scanned the damaged bone matter. Then a cold laser bit a long slice into the girl's side along the ribs and an infusion of nanites invaded her body.

Rusti's breathing stopped and she winced as a mixture of heat, pressure and a tickling sensation bubbled deep under her skin.

"Stay there still now, Zornoy ordered. "Takes a bit."

Cold and warm followed the gentle prickling as her nerves were put to sleep while the nanites rushed to set, mend and seal her broken bones. They cauterized damaged blood vessels. And repaired the knife wound.

Rusti released her breath and weariness blanketed over her like a slow, soft breeze.

"Stay awake, Sweetheart."

Optimus' quiet voice roused her from dozing. She did not see the surprised look from Zornoy or his assistant.

"Candice, I'll need that-yes, most thank you. Almost completed Miz Witwicky. Then you'll have to promise me you'll do no acrobatics, swimming, dancing or fighting for three to four days."

"Okay," Rusti replied without thinking. She dozed until Optimus touched her hair. She forced sleepy eyes to climb.

"You are so beautiful." He said it very softly and said it half through their link.

Rusti wearily smiled. [[_I missed you. And before you leave, you'd better let me kiss you._]]

"You'll make it difficult for me to leave you, Rusti."

"You're already in trouble. You might as well make up for it."

"Will you take a raincheck?"

"No." Rusti saw him wince.

"Okay. I have a favor to ask of you, then."

That woke her up. "Huh?"

"Well, it's complicating and, and it's very important."

She stared at him, her face pale with leftover pain but more alert. "I-I forgot-how are the Dinobots? How's Grimlock?"

"Repugnus is taking care of the Dinobots."

"What?"

"It's about Galvatron and Cyclonus."

Zornoy shut off the machine and Rusti's skin moved with the flow of activity. She scrunched her face in disgust. The sensation tickled but it was nasty at the same time. She gazed under her arm as blood poured from her wound. Silver and black fluids followed and she looked away.

"Gross! What _is_ that?"

"Eh, the nanites finished their work. They've all retired. See that? Yeah. That's good. They took that infection with them. Your friend and mine, Dr. Arcana, he'll like that. Yeah, I should take a photograph all for bragging purposes."

To her delight, Rusti was finally able to take a deep breath. The pain dissipated, replaced by weariness. "I hope the next Decepticon I encounter goes through this instead of me!"

Zornoy tossed medicated rags into a bag and packed up the machine. "Yes and yes. But no time soon. You're not released yet."

"Okay," Rusti accepted. "When can I escape?"

"Tomorrow. No lifting. No jumping no swimming. No running. No sweeping. No mopping no dancing. No fighting. And no leaving until I say."

"Okay."

He clicked the machine closed. "And you," he said to Optimus, "be nice to her-keep her safe."

"Okay."

Optimus and Rusti waited until Zornoy left and Rusti struck up the conversation again. "Ohmigod. All I can think about is you! Come here"

Optimus obeyed, smiling as he hovered over her. Rusti's lips touched the rim of his faceplate. She laid her warm hands on his helm as she trailed kisses over his exostructure. With a final embrace she released him. Prime settled back on his knees. "I wish I could stay and spend the day with you."

"I would be terminally boring right now, Optimus." Rusti confessed. "I sleep, I eat. Sometimes I manage to pee. Oh, yeah, and I get to listen to the Spiral Star complain."

"Complain."

"Yeah. It's not happy."

Prime shifted off his knees. There was a million things he needed to attend but if he could find a way to cheat-an excuse to spend just another minute with her, he'd certainly take the advantage. "What's it saying?"

She gave him a ten-day rundown in five minutes and struggled with some of the ship's unusual vocabulary.

"Cut lines?"

"Yes. Cut. Not torn or damaged."

"Does the Spiral Star know who?"

She listened in as the ship babbled on communicating with a hundred and twenty-six people at once. Rusti shook her head. "It says 'Communications ... sub transducer kappa-nu relays disrupted-" she made a queasy face and frowned.

"What is it, Rusti?" a smile touched Prime's voice.

"Oh, starships have a habit of giving me information I'd rather not have." Prime laughed at her and she flushed but kept listening. "Communications ... interlink twenty-five. Cross link forty. Oh! There's a signature scalpel with a frequency-dammit." she waited while Spiral Star dropped the topic to whine about someone kicking its landing gear. "I'm sorry, Optimus star cruisers tend to think in the moment only. And the Spiral Star has a very short attention span."

Prime smiled. "What about the ship's computer? Would it know?"

"No. That's not how the ships work. They have an underlying personality that's separate from the knowledge part that's the CPU. Oh, there we go." Rusti waited a moment, listening carefully. "Signature scalpel frequency of tetra tri-audio ninety-six point zero seven on . . . forty-three point nine cyberwats."

Optimus stared at her. "That's a very specific laser scalpel."

She listened in for any further information other than a communiqu between a cranky First Aid and a crankier Rodimus Prime. Rusti heard the Spiral Star relay to her the first three unrepeatable words and tuned it out. "Okay, you were saying something about Galvatron and Cyclonus?"

"I need a chaperon and Galvatron suggested you."

"Eh?" Rusti gave Prime an 'Orphan-Anne' blank expression.

"Well, I'm positive once the Autobots realize Galvatron and Cyclonus are not here to dismantle them, vaporize . . .or give them cooties, you won't need to keep an optic on them. But for now-"

"You're asking me to babysit two Decepticons?"

"It was Galvatron's idea."

"No, Optimus! Have you lost your head?! The Autobots will put me in a bird cage and form a lynch mob. They'll disencumber Cyclonus, dangle Galvatron by his innards and burn you at the stake."

Prime stared at a distance. "Oh." he was silent for about seven seconds. "Rusti," he looked back at her, "can I have your baby?"

She about swallowed air. Rusti's jaw dropped as far as it would go. "Wh-what?" she almost found no words. "NO! Optimus, you really have lost your head! It doesn't work that way. You-you're a BOY!"

He grinned. "So is that a 'no'?"

"Yes, it's a 'no'! Someone has to find a way to keep your head from falling off and I don't think-why can't Magnus do it? I'm not even an _Autobot_!"

"I know," Prime agreed, "that's why Galvatron's suggestion makes sense. You're neutral."

She squared him with an irritated look "AND BED-RIDDEN."

He nodded, understanding her irritability. "It's just that uh-without someone to chaperon-and ensure their safety, I'd have to lock them up. And I don't want to do that; not when they've been so considerate of me."

Rusti sighed, tired and frustrated. "Let me think it over a couple of hours, Optimus."

* * *

**Pt 10: New Dance**

**BAM. BAM. BAM**

"**MAGNUS!"**

**BAM. BAM. BAM**

**"Ultra Magnus, get your rust-encrusted aft out of recharge RIGHT NOW!**"

**GET UP!**"

**"I'M UP!"** Magnus rolled off the flat and stomped the floor as though to put holes in it. "For ONCE, just ONCE let me kick Prim's aft. It's all I want in life." Magnus opened the door and prepared to give Optimus Prime the worst snarl he could muster.

But no one was on the other side.

"This isn't funny!" Magnus shouted to no one. "Rodimus? No one is laughing! I'm sick and tired of you pulling this kind of crap on me!"

No one answered. No one was around to answer. Magnus' optics flared and he stomped off the Alvarez. He ignored greetings by Neon, Gort and Grotesque and stomped into the Dancing Siren.

He found Optimus in the engine room with Perceptor calibrating equipment for the hyperdrive installation. Perceptor saw the look on the city commander's face and sheepishly backed off.

"Thought you were resting, Magnus, " Prime said absently.

You called me out of sleep. Banging on my door and ordering me up. Now what's the deal?"

Optimus looked up, perplexed before meeting Magnus' fury. "I haven't called you, Ultra magnus. I've been working with-"

"Rodimus?" Magnus was determined to pin blame on someone.

"No. Roddi's working with Doublecross and Quasar on the Frostbite.

Magnus got square in Prime's face: "Someone screamed my name, banged on my door and ORDERED me out of sleep!"

"I believe you, Ultra Magnus, but it wasn't me."

"It was _your voice_. Or maybe your little conny friends pulled a trick."

Perceptor butt in at this point: "Not likely." His voice came a bit too cheerful for Magnus' liking. "Both Galvatron and Cyclonus have been confined to incarceration until someone volunteers to police them about the camp."

Optimus picked up an digipad. "I can look into it if you'd like, Magnus."

"Don't PATRONIZE me, Prime!" Magnus growled. Optimus shrugged. Was that a win? Did Magnus just win the moment? He calmed down because no one was willing to argue. Magnus mulled over it and decided it might have been a bad dream. He watched Prime for a moment. "What are you working on?"

"Why? Need something to do?" the Autobot leader reached for another pad. "Here."

Magnus received the pad. The screen lit with a description of a tool. "What's this?"

"It's the tool Rusti said that Spiral Star blamed for sabotaging its communications lines."

Magnus lost all anger and gazed at Prime. He switched to a private internal comlink. "She said _what_?"

"The Spiral Star," Prime answered on the link. "She said the shop described that-"

"Since when is Rusti able to communicate with star cruisers?"

"I don't know." Prime shrugged outwardly.

"Do you expect to find the tool?"

"No. I hope we can."

Perceptor let out a yelp of joy. "That's got it, Prime!"

The warp drive shot to life, lighting the engineering section in a rainbow of blue, ultraviolet and green. Optimus swept up another pad and jotted his signature on it. "Good work, Perceptor. That's six ships now. Contact Redial. See if the Cold Refractor is ready for its fit yet."

Magnus turned to leave when Prime's hand gripped his arm. For a split nanosecond, Magnus thought Prime's hand painfully icy, the color degraded to a dead-blue. He refrained from wincing and looked to the Autobot leader.

"We don't have enough supplies for all the ships. I did not know how many were with you and Rodimus.

Magnus paused. "What are you saying?"

"Someone needs to go back to Concentric City for the rest of the equipment."

"Did you want me to find someone?"

Optimus thought it over while ship's crew mopped up the room around them. "We need someone who can communicate on an unknown frequency."

Magnus thought hard. "Uhh . . . I'll check the duty roster." Magnus watched Prime's demeanor shift to weariness and withdrawal. The Major-General inwardly cursed the Virus and frowned. "Maybe you should get some rest, Prime," he suggested. "I'll let you know if I find something."

Optimus nodded. "I need to visit Sunstreaker."

Rodimus traveled along the power lines and fuel conduits within the Frostbite. The ship was salvageable but it took three shifts of workers six days to map out the damage and another three days to remove the damaged pieces before repairs. But before they could restore the Frostbite's basic power, all the lines had to be checked-not by computer readouts, but by hand.

Rodimus took on the assignment himself because it required concentration and forced him to keep his mind on something other than the two Decepticon prisoners.

Rodimus could not decide which was more irritating: the fact that Galvatron made fun of his temper, or that neither Decepticon protested when they had to be locked up.

Just thinking about Galvatron was enough to raise Rodimus' fuel pressure and he lost his spot.

"Damn!"

He crawled back sixteen loops and started over, tracing the power lines along the side of the engine vaults. One hair line crack, one bent line meant the Frostbite could blow her engines upon ignition.

A shape flashed before Roddi's optics and he startled. "What the-?"

He waited two beats before contacting Wavelength on the bridge. "Is there a power surge I don't know about?"

"Uhh, we don't have power, Rodimus. The Frostbite's offline." Wavelength replied.

Roddi waited another beat then resumed his trace.

Wavelength patched in again: "They are, however, working on shield fluctuation problems in the other ship."

"No," Roddi objected. "I'm not sure what I didn't see."

He said nothing more and Wavelength shrugged it off and continued testing the navigation panel. He double-checked the starboard sensors and found a blocked link.

Quasar entered with two metal boxes in her arms and a digipad dangled form a cord at her neck. "A little sleuthing goes a long way," she said cheerfully. "I found more twenty-four Y-chips and sixteen clasps and the three point gage wire you were looking for."

Wavelength smirked. "Hope that wasn't Blaster's. He said he found some, too. Said he'd play the worm song to anyone who abducted his supplies."

"Nah. I got this from the Racing Beast. Redial had an extra stash of stuff he didn't report to Ultra Magnus."

"Ooooh. . ." Wavelength shook his head and refit the template on the board. "Redial lives dangerously."

Quasar laughed and set the boxes down. She started work on the weapons consol, unscrewing and unlatching the security plating.

Wavelength plucked up a roll of electric tape when he thought the navigation consol now looked strange. But he could not figure out why. When he glance at helm, it dawned on him that navigation was shorter.

Wavelength pushed the chair back and his optics shot bright with shock. "Q-Quasar! Lookit this! Primus!"

Quasar stepped down to the navigation and gasped. The underside of the consol melted like wax. "Hurry! We have to save something!"

They worked as fast as their bodies allowed. They unlatched security panels, removed valuable boards, rescued hard-to-find components, readouts and gages before the entire consol melted into a puddle of ooze.

The two Autobots cautiously stepped back, clutching prized equipment in their arms. As they stared, a head rose from the melted metal. A mouth yawned open. A hand lifted and made half an attempt to stand but it merely sank back and the puddle solidified.

Rodimus found no flaws along fuel lines and conduits leading from the Frostbite's powercore to the engines. But he did find a panel ajar leading to the helm and communications channels. It was slightly bent and poorly welded.

"What the hell . . .?" Roddi pried it open and found one board damaged in selective areas.

" . . . _Roddi . . ._"

"Eh?"

He paused because the voice was faint.

"Op, did you say something?"

"No," Prime came back. "I'm on my way to visit Sunstreaker."

"But you just called my name."

"It was not me, Rodimus."

"_Your_ voice," Roddi argued.

Optimus' irritation came back, "I am not playing this game, Rodimus. You and Magnus need to find someone else to pick on. It's not amusing."

"What?" Rodimus asked defensively. "I didn't do anything."

"Just stop."

"Pffp. Okay. Not that I've even _spoken_ to Magnus since yesterday. . . " Optimus' irritation mounted through the Matrix and Rodimus decided to let Prime have his mood. He could call the Senior Prime on it later.

OPTIMUS

Optimus touched the door to Sunstreaker's room. An image flashed through his head and left so fast Optimus had no idea what it might have been.

He entered the room and found it disconcerting. Sunstreaker lay on a longer table, his body now more assembled than it was several days ago. First Aid, Perceptor and Trinket slowly reassembled the poor Autobot but it took a lot of time because parts were not always available right away.

Sadly enough, Optimus knew many of those parts came from the deceased. Worse than that, Sunstreaker's damage meant he'd never look quite the way he did-at least until they returned to Earth.

A shadow stirred but Prime did not need to guess who it was. "Hello, Sideswipe," he greeted quietly.

No response.

Optimus did not need one. He knew what Sideswipe was going through. The brothers were painfully close. They did everything together. They were closer, in fact, than many Earthen married couples Optimus knew. What troubled Prime, however, was that if one twin died, chances were not too remote the other would too.

Optimus inwardly expressed his concern to Rodimus who was equally as concerned.

Then Roddi signaled he had to take care of a 'Daniel problem'.

never a dull moment, Optimus thought sadly. He drew up a chair and sat at Sunstreaker's side. He examined the frail, wiry form of a robot who was once so proud of his looks and style. To have this done to anyone else would only be a matter of time and determination. But to Sunstreaker, it was worse than death.

"I know you can hear me," Optimus started quietly. "Sunstreaker, I want you to get well. Everything is temporary. Especially the bad times." Prime flinched, feeling a backlash from Roddi. The argument between he and Daniel was fairly intense.

Optimus' optics drifted from the beleaguered wounded Sunstreaker and wondered why he had felt so sensitive of late. He stretched forth his senses to take in the general mood of the entire camp.

A disturbing quiet settled over the Autobots.

Sunstreaker's clipped and mangled metallic voice interrupted Optimus' thoughts: "Not same. Not return same."

The sound Sunstreaker made could not be interpreted by Human ears. He 'spoke' pure Basic Autobot and was completely incapable of communicating on other lines or links.

Prime sensed Sideswipe's distress.

"It will take time," Optimus was not going to lie to 'Streaker. But he tried to retain a sense of optimism. "And as soon as we can, Sunstreaker, we'll be going to a very beautiful planet. I know you don't know Yolthanis III, but I'm certain you'll enjoy it."

Optimus had to turn away from Sunny when Rodimus relayed something Daniel said to him. Regaining his composure, Optimus turned back to Sunstreaker.

"Not stay. Miss Earth. miss . . . home."

"We _will_ get back-"

The image he saw before flashed through Prime's mind again and this time he caught it like a snapshot.

The Cyberwraith clawed at its prison like an angry animal and the image that assailed Optimus Prime was of the Cyberwraith spitting poison at Sunstreaker. The poison leaked into his spark and drowned him with doubt, confusion and despondency.

Prime looked to Sideswipe. The Lambro twin languished in the same dark corner he confined himself to two and a half weeks ago. Light did not grace Sideswipe's armor. No cheer danced in his dim blue optics. He sat, knees up, head upon folded arms. A mask of grief lay across his countenance like a disease.

Prime laid a hand on Sunstreaker's non-functional, skeletal right arm. "Sunstreaker." pause. "Sun-Sunny? You _have_ to will yourself better. Sideswipe needs you."

Only a vague, pitiful sound answered Optimus' plea. It was not good. But then, it wasn't bad, either and to be honest with himself, the Autobot leader did not know what to make of it. He could not think of what to say that would drag Sunstreaker out of his absolute despondency.

They needed to get him into a new body as soon as possible-except that it simply wasn't possible. It would take weeks to months to do that.

Perhaps it was a kinder thing to put Streaker into a forced stasis until they could get him help.

But First Aid only solemnly shook his head when Optimus asked about the stasis. The medic came in to check on the twins himself and wordlessly invited Prime outside the room to discuss the matter.

"I already have too many Autobots in stasis: the Spiral Star and the Dancing Siren can only take on eight each. The frustrating thing is, Prime, Spiral Star is currently supporting _twelve_ and the Siren is holding fourteen. The Racing Beast has four and it wasn't designed for Autobot casualties. I've been trying to get Sunstreaker to realize it's only temporary. But it's like he's eating himself up." First Aid shrugged. "It's frustrating and I can't afford the time to help him-or Sideswipe. Grimlock, Springer, Air Raid, Sky Dive, Snarl . . . Blue . . . they all need round-the-clock care."

Optimus felt terrible for Fist Aid and felt worse, now that he added to the medic's frustration. Prime nodded and turned to leave when First Aid whipped out his scanner.

The Autobot leader turned back, half amused. "Picking up habits from Trinket, First Aid?"

"She has the right idea; we need to keep tabs on the two of you. And by the way, Prime, she's working on the readouts she took during the meeting."

"You expect her to find something useful?"

"No. But I'm willing to wager _you_ have."

Prime gave him a puzzled look and would have asked the doctor for an explanation when 'Aid's scanner went mad.

First Aid glanced from the scanner to Prime and back. "That's not you. That's Sunstreaker!"

They ran to Sunstreaker's room where Sideswipe wailed in trauma and helplessness. They found a creature of Magnus' height, with two reptilian heads and abnormally long body poised over Sunstreaker, hissing and speaking in a foreign dialect.

Before First Aid could object, Prime hauled out his weapon from subspace, changed the setting and shot it.

The alien fell from Sunstreaker's bed and shattered into millions of metal fragments.

First Aid rushed to check 'Streaker while Prime helped his brother to his feet and laid him on a nearby counter.

"Magnus?" Prime called, rather than answering First Aid.

"Yeah."

"It's out."

"What?" Aid and Magnus chorused. First Aid ordered a stretcher for Sideswipe.

"The Cyberwraith."

Magnus cussed.

Aid tilted his head, perplexed. "That's not possible. Ultra Magnus-"

"It's a Matrix memory, First Aid. And it knows how to manipulate mater and organize it into a shape."

"That's just not possible. Memories do not come to life. They're _signatures_, not life forms . . ." as he said it, First Aid lifted his head, seeing something beyond his leader.

Optimus slowly turned. A sensation of frosted death fell over him. But it was not the wraith that met him, but Void. In shadow, with no solid form, the Virus' triangular head lowered and stared deeply into Prime. Its teeth opened and clasped as though it spoke, but Void made no noise. It stared, transfixed at the Autobot leader.

"First Aid," Prime said quietly. "Get them out of here. Take Sunstreaker-"

SUS . . . Void hissed, still staring like a snake, wound tight for an attack. SUSSS . . . KRRR. SSSSSUUUU . . . SUUUUNNNNN. . . . SSSSUNNN . . . Void lifted its head beyond Optimus and cast an eyeless gaze at First Aid. Its neck stretched from the shadows, a ribbon of darkness. It paused before First Aid.

Optimus' energy drained. He reached for Roddi but felt only the vortex.

Void lifted its head from First Aid and stretched toward Sunstreaker.

SSS. SSSS. SSSUUUUNNN.

Optimus sank to his knees. Elsewhere, by the Interrogator, Rodimus fainted.

Void stared at Sunstreaker and shifted its position, staring at the Autobot at several angles.

First Aid watched, horrified and mesmerized, trying to figure out why the strange behavior. As he watched, pieces of left-over parts and metal scrap jiggled and trembled. The next instant, the two-headed wraith rebuilt itself. A scream issued forth. Void hissed at it and spit some form of chemical, partially melting the wraith's chest.

The wraith slipped back, shifted into a two-headed serpent and aimed for Sunstreaker.

But Void intercepted, ramming its head against the monster. The wraith recoiled and raised its metal body above the doorway.

Void's tapered needle-point legs stepped from the shadows and lines in the room and secured its jaws around one head. The memory-wraith snapped back, dragging Void down and the two wrestled. The wraith's body clinked and tinkled with millions of metal parts while the Virus hissed. They fought outside the room, thwacking against the walls, slapping the floor, slamming one another this way, that.

First Aid checked Sunstreaker but worry for Optimus and Sideswipe made him indecisive. He checked Sunny for immediate life signs then Sideswipe and finally Optimus. While Sideswipe was aware enough to acknowledge First Aid, neither Sunstreaker nor Optimus Prime were responsive.

The wraith thunked, crashed and at one point, rocked the entire star cruiser and in so doing, knocked First Aid off his feet. He recovered, finding Optimus Prime still on his knees, his expression empty. But he bled from under his chest plate.

First Aid crawled to Prime and tried to contact Trinket first then Perceptor and finally Ultra Magnus.

"We've been trying to establish contact!" Magnus snapped. "What's going on?"

"Optimus . . . Oh, Primus, how's Rodimus Prime? Ultra Magnus, you must find Rodimus-"

The wall caved in, torn asunder, and Void screamed in shrill, irritated tones. The wraith fell to pieces then shot back together. First Aid fell from the impacting force, Optimus fell with him, frozen and heedless of events.

'Aid cringed and cried out when Void's legs came all too close to impaling him. The medic camped hands bout his helm when the Virus emitted another shrill sound, loud and long so that the metal pieces holding the wraith as a physical form, cracked and splintered. All glass in the room shattered. All non-reinforced metal cracked under the sonic attack and air filters disintegrated.

"Well, aren't you a pain in the aft?" Galvatron turned the corner and shot Void. First Aid tried to sit up to warn the Decepticon his weapon would do no good. But neither the Protectobot's voice nor his hydrolics obeyed his commands.

Void screeched its objection to Galvatron's attack and abandoned the memory-wraith for its new opponent. Galvatron shot it square in the chest three time before shifting laser frequencies and fired again.

All that did was irritate the Matrix Virus and it stomped the floor like a mad horse; in fact, it reared.

Galvatron changed his tactics and firepower. He drew energy straight from his own spark and directed it through his displacement repolarizor.

Void wailed pitifully. A hole formed in its chest, burning slowly, the edges lit with blue flames. The Virus staggered and with one glance at Sunstreaker, it hissed and slipped into a seam in the floor.

Magnus followed Colt in and behind them came Apogee and Titanium.

Galvatron put his weapon immediately away and went directly for the Autobot leader while Apogee checked First Aid.

Magnus ordered Silverbolt, Dogfight, Strike Back and Jazz on parameter watch. All nonessential personnel were ordered to their designated cruisers.

The Major-General knelt beside Galvatron as he used Apogee's scanner on the Autobot leader. "He was just visiting Sunstreaker. I don't understand what happened."

"I don't either, Magnus. And exactly how do you plan to keep the other Autobots locked up in their quarters?"

Magnus watched as another medical assistant ran in with two antigrav flats; one for First Aid, the other for Optimus. "Well, they can either listen to me now, or they can listen to me later. Most of them know better than to want to listen to me later."

Galvatron smiled, approving before he noticed Optimus came to. "Hello, Prime," he purred.

"What was . . . what was . . . it fought over Sun ... Streaker. Roddi."

"Hush." Galvatron ordered firmly. "Or Magnus will ground you until you're twenty-five. And no TV for a week." That earned him a grin from Magnus.

But the smiled did not last. A frantic call came to Magnus from Bumblebee about Daniel. Magnus growled in frustration.

"What?"

"Nothing." the Major-General snarled. "Dan Witwicky; a BIG nothing."

Optimus raised his hand as though to grasp something. Galvatron clasped it. "I could handle the 'boy'. You probably should stay with these two just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"Just in case." Galvatron repeated. He met the city commander's optics expectantly, knowing he was right.

Magnus fidgeted, struggling to figure the best way through a dangerous, sticky moment. "Go." he agreed at the last. "But don't kill anything." Galvatron left and Magnus wondered how Rodimus would take to his decision.

Maybe he should start working on his last will.

*

Spending time listening to idle chatter on the Autobot frequency gave Galvatron some idea as to what was going on regarding Witwicky. The Decepticon thought it strange that one human could be so much trouble.

"_Wasn't he the son of Spike Witwicky?"_ he asked Cyclonus over their own comlines.

"_Yes,_" Cyclonus confirmed. "_A child who wasn't quite bright enough to realize the Autobot he was with was a reckless, negligent ignoramus."_

That made Galvatron pause before leaving the Spiral Star. It was not often Cyclonus tagged insult to anyone. He spotted a flexible rubber seal lying on the floor. It was a bit small for his fingers, but it would be very useful. _"Who are you talking about?"_

"_An Autobot wanna-be named Wheelie. But I've not seen him our entire journey._"

Galvatron did not have any trouble finding Daniel. The shouting and insults he traded with a crowd carried across the refugee camp.

A hundred and fifty paces before approaching the congregation, Galvatron snapped the rubber sealant and hit Daniel directly on the rear.

Daniel felt that clear through his armor and he yelped before swearing a long line of filthy words.

Duros stared at Witwicky in disgust.

Galvatron grinned. "Hello there. Am I interrupting anything?

Daniel turned to him, eyes hot with antagonism.

"Did you just hit me, you two-faced malfunctioning waste disposal unit?"

Galvatron scrunched down on his haunches and smiled as the crowd around Daniel and Duros thinned. "Maybe," the Decepticon taunted.

"Oh!" Daniel sneered. "I suppose Rodimus felt he couldn't control his temper anymore and sent you to 'deal' with me."

"Actually, no. Simply that Rodimus had more interesting matters to attend than to stand here and yawn himself into oblivion listening to your pathetic attempts at a decent insult. And if I were you, Daniel Witwicky, I'd stick with the Dick-and-Jane level of vocabulary; it's more your speed."

Daniel nodded, his face a rock of sarcasm. "Oh, that's funny. Yeah, you're right up there with Rodipuss Prime."

Galvatron turned to Duros. "What is going on?"

"He wanted to see his daughter and Rodimus already told him no visitation rights. He lost them when he struck her."

"I DIDN'T HIT HER! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU ASSHOLES?! Look, if you're dying for a reason to kick my ass, I suggest you take it up with Arcee."

Galvatron gave him a repulsive, confused expression. "What has Arcee-"

**"EVERYTHING!**" Daniel exploded. "She betrayed me, the little pink whore. Has she pleasured you yet, Galvatron? She'll find a way. The little water stain!"

"Ha!" Galvatron stood. "What a repulsive little objection you've turned out to be, Daniel Witwicky. Tell me, is being an aft part of your genetic code, or do you have to work at it?"

Galvatron did not need a translator to interpret the hand signal Daniel gave him. The former Headmaster's face said it all.

Galvatron nodded. "Hmmhmm. So what has Arcee and your lowlife attitude got to do with visiting Rusti?"

That set Daniel into another explosive tirade of physical gestures, false allegations and words Galvatron had never thought to hear from anyone but the Predicons. He and Duros watched as Daniel stomped the ground, indignant and emotional like an undisciplined three year-old.

Galvatron crossed his arms. "This is ridiculous."

"Your retarded _statement_ is ridiculous!" Daniel spat. "Who are you to judge me by my actions?! You're a fucking Decepticon scraplet, useless even for spare parts! How desperate was Optimus Prime when he found you?"

"Well, I supposed you could say that he was like an orphan, really."

"Oh, _really?_ What. You plan to adopt him? Do you plan to _marry_ him, too?"

"The Autobots can not help themselves if they're annoyingly tolerant of excrement like you, Daniel." Galvatron hauled out his gun. "But Decepticons are less than inclined to endure abuse, verbal or otherwise."

Daniel's ugly face got uglier as he stared at the barrel. "You wouldn't _dare_. Rodimus would _so_ be all over you!"

Galvatron laughed and pulled the trigger.

RODIMUS:

Rodimus checked the Frostbite's systems from stern to engine three times just before Magnus called him.

Then Quasar called him.

No sooner did she say his name than Duros called him.

"Everyone take a number and get in line," Roddi said dryly. "Mags, you first."

"I just saw a ghost cross the hallway on the Saber's Claw. And I can't contact Optimus Prime.

That confirmed it. Rodimus paused to decide what to do. He swept up a digipad and typed in orders for several ships to raise their shields and remain so until further notice.

Quasar called again. The navigation consol was what? Roddi smacked his forehead with the digipad. "Gryph," he called, "I have a job for you."

"Uhhhh ..." She did not know how to tell him what she saw on the wall. "Okay."

Roddi thumbed in the situation to Gryph via digipad and told the former Fort Horizon city commander what she could do to replace the part-

Duros called again: "Seriously, Rodimus, I need _someone_ to-"

Roddi twisted his face with disbelief. "Is that _Daniel_ I hear in the background?"

"He's demanding to see his daughter."

Rodimus thought he could spit and he thunked his head instead. "I'm coming!" He thunked his head several more times. Oh for the want of a little pest control! Rodimus descended the line shaft and re-rechecked lines at a glance.

_One, toot_

_who can I shoot?_

_Three and four_

_I'm Rodimus, hear me roar_

_Five then six_

_Daniel, king of pricks_

_Seven, eight_

_I'll make him Virus bait._

_Nine, ten,_

_here we go again!_

Rodimus transformed to car mode. He wanted to smash out the Frostbite's hull but restrained himself long enough to reach the plank. He poured on the speed, zipped across camp, and missed Doublecross by three narrow inches.

He arrived at the Vertical Horizon, drifted to a stop and rained dust on Daniel and Duros. The two rolled along the ground, locked for domination.

Nasty Cratian dirt pissed both men off and they split up. Daniel jumped with a roar, Duros merely objectionable. The second Witwicky's eyes contacted Duros, he charged headlong, heedless of an Autobot's presence.

But Rodimus stepped in and Daniel plowed into Prime's metal leg, making a nasty crunching noise.

He oofed and stumbled backward until he landed butt-first. Now his eyes climbed up . . . up.

Rodimus gave him an innocent expression. "Oh, hi, Dan-o. didn't see you there."

"Asshole."

"Thank you, Daniel. Now why don't you be a good little jerk and go play with some dung beetles while the adults tend to their jobs?"

"I want to see Resonna."

"No."

"NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT-"

"Neither do you. You lost that privilege. Besides, she's not in the Vertical Horizon-oh, didn't I mention you were supposed to stay away from Arcee, too? Can't you play nice with anybody, Dan-o?"

"Goddamn you, Rodimus, you self-righteous prick! I'm her _father_ and I have a right to demand-"

Roddi's mind slipped from the moment. No, he thought, _stay focused! Stay with the event-The little paper wasp buzzed and demanded . . ._

He did not care about the wasp or the nest it built on the tree shading the gravestone.

Roddi knelt before the stone while flashes of memories not his own played through his mind.

Yes, the Virus hit.

Yes, they found a cure.

But they could not cure the broken relationship.

Was he supposed to be remorseful over Optimus' death?

Rodimus supposed as much. The Autobots expected him to grovel for forgiveness. They kept saying how they understood it was an accident.

It was a load of used oil. At least, as far as Roddi himself was concerned. He murdered Optimus _after_ the Virus was gone, but Ratchet insisted that was not so.

After all, Roddi in his right mind would never murder another Autobot; especially Optimus Prime.

Oh yeah? Says who? Why did the Autobots cast him in the light of sweetness and sinlessness? Why was he expected to be blameless and pure of heart?

It was a load of crap.

Just like it was with Galvatron.

No, Galvatron was dead.

No, Galvatron never existed.

No . . .

No . . .

_"Stop this!"_ Roddi hissed at the Virus.

MY CHOICE. SEEK CONFUSION. IRRITATES; YOU LOSE.

Roddi winced at the sight of the Vertical Horizon standing between he and the not-so-scenic desert plane.

They weren't on Earth. They found no cure. Roddi was _co-leader_. He felt the Matrix softly vibrate in his chest. A sense of injustice and cruelty assailed him. No one ever asked or begged to be the Autobot leader. He felt like the one child who did not move while classmates and peers stepped away to volunteer him for an unwanted assignment.

But this was worse than an unwanted assignment; it was a life-long condemnation.

Distantly Roddi heard voices; one calm, collected. The other came venomous, angry, loud. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Roddi was cognizant of what was happening to him. But locked in Viral influence, Rodimus could not shake his mind free of the skewed and distorted perception.

_I'm going to black out,_ he thought _I'm going to fall flat and prove through my weakness that I am not the right choice for leadership status._

Stop!

Stop!

Roddi heard a commotion several yards away. He heard Magnus in truck mode jamming down the middle of camp. He heard screams and cries.

And then someone caught him as he tumbled, falling through space, falling through time. He could not make out his rescuer's face. He perceived soft silver of color. Amethyst along the helm. Jewels for optics. Weakly, Roddi lifted to touch the jewels.

_"Tell Optimus . . . please tell him . . . that I'm sorry. No, *I* am sorry. The other Roddi wasn't but I am."_

"He knows, Rodimus," The voice followed him into darkness, a deep, leveled voice, familiar, but not something to which Roddi was accustomed.

_"Tell him because he really needs to know . . . I love him."_

ULTRA MAGNUS

Magnus could not have been more delighted to get the 'seek-and-nail' assignment. He relished this one because it demanded all his organizational skills. The instant Prime handed him the first pad, Magnus poured through it like a dog hunting through land, air and sea for that one scent.

Better still, the Major-General had the opportunity to use his personal, ultimate secret weapon: his own electronic trap door. All the datapads, logs and ship computers were install with private access codes for the senior staff. But only the two Primes and Magnus himself had trap doors that no other city commander knew about.

It was Magnus' own idea; one that he considered his 'electric child'.

Rodimus whole-heartedly agreed to it. They did, however, heavily debate about Jazz. Roddi thought it unfair they left Jazz out of their trio of command-conspirators. But Magnus insisted the fewer, the better and won. He took his idea-and his luck-one step further and suggested they included all assignment logs and medical journals kept on the Spiral Star and all EDC logs located on the Sunset Kummya.

Magnus knew Roddi and Optimus did not like the idea of keeping secrets from the rest of the senior staff. But they understood the necessity of a backed-up security system. After the first Viral incident, Magnus pushed his trap door policy one step further; just in case the Virus took control of the two Primes.

Magnus did not like to do anything behind the backs of two people he trusted with his life. After all, it wasn't just lives he had to protect, but their society.

Magnus wondered if Rodimus thought of a contingency plan in case both he and Optimus ended completely incompetent to lead.

Of course, Magnus digressed, Rodimus did tell everyone else that they needed to come up with their own plans.

But the Major-General found no comfort in it.

Returning to Earth was not an option.

Going to Cybertron was not an option.

However, one thought struck Magnus hard: they had Galvatron.

Ultra Magnus half-smiled, thinking about Cyclonus' deliciously-detailed recon reports. In fact. Both Decepticons carefully blended themselves in. They did not complain, they did not seek special treatment or make demands of any sort. Not that Magnus was willing to let his guard down for a micron, but he did feel oddly at ease around the two.

Wasn't it Ambassador Koontah who suggested to Roddi to find allies of their own strength and calabur?

And what better allies than Decepticons? After all, they shared the Autobot's history with the Quintessons.

In spite of his meganiums-old prejudice, Magnus dared consider giving Cyclonus and Galvatron just a slice of trust; just enough to so that if they blew it, he could nail their murderous carcasses to the nearest event horizon and watch the black hole suck them in.

TRACE.

The digipad in his hands blinked, indicating it found the tool Rusti described. Magnus traced its present whereabouts on the Trench Driver and who currently used it: Cloudstreaker.

Between the Hannibal's Mark and the Trench Driver, the Driver had the stronger, more adaptable scanners-one reason why Rodimus directed the Dinobots to set it just outside camp.

The Driver also had better weapons array and larger spaces for tool storage.

Magnus found Cloudstreaker working with Hardhead, realigning the controls for warpdrive. She lay partially under helm control while Hardhead read off a check list, testing circuits for shorts.

Rodimus spat a few swear words regarding a complaint about Daniel. Magnus inwardly grunted, glad that Roddi took it upon himself to deal with the troublesome dissident.

"It's just not fair," Roddi commented to Magnus privately.

"What's that?"

"That I'm so large and he's not. Just once, just _once_ I'd love to have the opportunity to shrink to his level so I could beat the crap out of him."

Magnus could not suppress his smile. "He doesn't think so, Roddi. I think he enjoys your devoted attention."

"Mags?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping."

Magnus accidently smirked, though it was light. He caught Hardhead's attention and the Headmaster started to scramble to his feet.

"As you were," Magnus dismissed. "He scrunched down as Cloustreaker slid from the consol's underside. She had drops of lubricant smeared along her left cheek and Magnus thought it was cute. He could not get rid of his smile. "Um, I'm . . . I'm looking for a specific tool, Cloudstreaker and according to the logs, you're the last to have it."

She looked confused. "My data tablets, commander?"

"No. A specific laser scalpel."

She flinched. "Delta said she didn't need it today."

"You borrowed it from Delta?" Magnus hauled out his digipad and made a note then tracked Delta's whereabouts.

"Aye, sir." Cloudy answered simply. She twisted round and dragged it from a mound of other tools and supplies. She disconnected an adaptor and handed it to him.

Magnus laid the tool on his pad, scanned it in, added the serial number and took a reading on its exact signature. He handed it back to her with an apologetic smile. Thank you, Cloudstreaker. That's all I needed. However, if you pass it on to anyone other than Delta, let me know."

"Aye, sir."

Jazz signaled on Magnus' private comm. "Heya. Missy here says she'd like t' yak at ol' Galvatron 'nd Cyc."

"What?" Magnus twisted his features as he disembarked from the Driver.

"Rusti says she'd like to yak at Galvatron. I told her she had t' have either yer permission 'r Roddi's an' Roddi's not answering his com."

Magnus grunted and set his digipad into subspace. "I'm on my way."

The Gabriel Genesis was used mainly for rations and extra supplies. Magnus had his reservations about putting Galvatron and Cyclonus in the Genesis brig. But frankly, it was the lesser of several bad ideas: one other choice would have been the Horizon which served as resting quarters for one-fourth of the Autobot refugee population.

Ultra Magnus arrived to end an argument between Rusti and Strike Back. The Major-General scowled. Now what? He thought. "What's this about?"

"Nothing drastic," Rusti answered first. "I just want to hear their side of things."

Strike Back shook his head. "No. This impressionable young lady does not need to listen to Decepticon propaganda."

"I am NOT impressionable!" Rusti objected.

"You aren't old enough to make that decision," the Fort Zenith city commander argued. "You've not lived long enough to understand what Decepticons are capable of."

Rusti glared. "Geeze, Strike Back chill _out_!"

"All right, all right!" Magnus interrupted. "This is not going to cause the galaxy to implode. She can talk to Galvatron. I just don't want her inside the cell."

Strike Back shook his head, optics dark with annoyance. "Unbelievable. You're taking a security risk, Magnus."

Ultra Magnus stared the other city commander down. In the greater scheme of things, it was Magnus who was in charge. Strike Back read that deadpan expression and walked away.

The moment turned awkward. Rusti lost track of what she wanted to ask and say to the two strangers. She stared at the floor, at the ceiling, at the opposite wall.

"Oops!" Jazz declared. "I just gotta call from the Alvarez. Seems they's got installation difficulties." He gave Magnus an uncertain expression.

"Go on, Jazz," Magnus assured, "We'll be just fine here." Magnus waved Jazz good-bye and wondered if he should stay and supervise or leave the girl to some privacy. Certainly he should not leave her alone. Not that he didn't trust Galvatron and Cyclonus, necessarily, he just . . . didn't trust Galvatron and Cyclonus.

Rusti felt torn between adult curiosity and childish wonder. She paced in front of the cell twice and half expected Galvatron to lash out in a tantrum. But all the Decepticons did was watch her like a pair of cats half amused by a moving bug.

With a great sigh, the girl finally remembered what she wanted to say. "Okay. Optimus told me you two came here with him and that someone needed to keep an eye on you. I'm guessing you already know you're on the galactic shit list. So my question is what possessed you to come here? Don't you realize the Autobots are drooling for a chance to put you down like a pair of mad dogs?"

Galvatron wanted to move closer. It was difficult to see the girl between glowing energy bars. Besides, Magnus loomed nearby, probably itching for an excuse to blow him into the next war. "We didn't pressure or brainwash Optimus into-"

"I'm not talking about Optimus," Rusti snapped.

"Sorry." Galvatron took a step back toward Cyclonus. The girl, though small, had a strange way of making her point.

"So what's your story, Galvatron?" Rusti reworded.

Galvatron stole a glance at Cyclonus then frowned at the girl. "If I approach the energy bars, will your gargoyle there shoot me?"

Rusti grinned broadly but resisted the inclination to read Magnus' expression. "No. You can come closer." Galvatron approached and knelt. His height and build were not all that dissimilar from Optimus Prime. But his expression spoke of wary caution.

"I'm afraid, erm, Rusti Witwicky, that even if I tell you the truth, you will not believe me."

Rusti stared at him, befuddled. "You're saying that your answer for being here is stronger than fiction?"

"Yes."

She glanced at an unimpressed and impassive Ultra Magnus. "Are you saying that because you don't think Magnus would believe you, or are you saying that I am incapable of believing something outside my own experience?"

Galvatron gave her a puzzled look. Clearly she was raised by Autobots; she spoke like one. "Erm." he glanced at Cyclonus who shrugged. "Yes," Galvatron scowled. "To both questions."

Rusti stared into his radiant red optics for a moment and silently asked the ship if it knew if Galvatron was honest. The Gabriel Genesis suggested it detected neither deception nor antagonism from either Galvatron or Cyclonus. She stepped aside and glanced from Magnus to Galvatron, hoping Ultra Magnus was listening and could take an objective viewpoint during her brief interrogation.

To the surprise for both Galvatron and Ultra Magnus, Rusti sat on the floor, hands in her lap. "Okay, if I promise to listen and not judge, will you tell me about it?"

Galvatron inclined his head, confused. "Uhh . . ."

"I am inexperienced, Galvatron. But I'm not stupid. And if it's important enough for you to warn me your story is weird, then I am obligated to listen because that's exactly what Optimus would do. I trust Optimus Prime. Sometimes he's been off-kilter. Sometimes he's not been himself. But he's always been straight forward with me and if he trusts you enough to bring you here, then obviously I need to be open-minded enough to hear you out."

That made perfect sense with Ultra Magnus. In fact, he took a seat on the floor next to her, hands in lap. "Me too," he added.

Surprised, Galvatron smiled gratefully and Cyclonus joined the group while the Decepticon leader told them everything from Skorponok's coup to Galvatron's assassination, his benefactor and choice to accept the second chance given him to set things right.

"I do not, however," he injected, "for a single micron, claim innocence. Cyclonus and I both know what we're guilty of." he stared at Magnus, expecting the Major-General to concur and add what punishment he'd like to hand to Galvatron.

But Magnus already agreed to Rusti's condition of impartiality and he was not going to go back on his word. Besides, just as she said, Rusti had little to no experience. But she had good insight and Magnus knew he could trust her judgement.

Galvatron spoke about conditions on Earth, the underground and how the Quintessons were using Humans and Autobots alike to build a gigantic time window; big enough to move a vast army through. He talked about Optimus' battle with tatlic and how he tried to talk Cyclonus into leaving he and Prime, that Galvatron was willing to stay with the Autobot leader, no matter the consequences.

"We almost lost him on Monicus," Galvatron added. "If it hadn't been for the ladies-"

The Gabriel Genesis shuddered under them and all four stared at the floor. Rusti jumped to her feet first when she recognized faces in the metal. "We have to get out of here!"

Magnus hesitated. He could not decide whether or not to leave the Decepticons in the brig. But when a hand stretched from the wall grasping at nothing, Magnus made his mind and jumped, releasing the prisoners. "Out of the ship. NOW!" They ran as Magnus patched into the Genesis' intercom. "This is Ultra Magnus. All personnel abandon ship. I repeat, all personnel abandon ship! This is not a drill!"

The Major-General heard a faint whine behind them and he paused for a glance.

The flooring along the hallway rose like a wave of water, rolling for them. The metal panels opened dark maws and all spoke though nothing was heard. Magnus swung about, swept Rusti up and transformed. Cyclonus copied and Galvatron hopped on, lying flat as they sped up the next level and out the ship. All staff, civilians and officers, raced off the Genesis' plank and ran a good fifty yards.

Magnus transformed and set the girl at his feet. He watched with everyone else as the ship twisted and arched, now taking on an animalistic shape. A mouth replaced the Genesis' stern. It yawned and creaked. It moaned as its body stretched. The landing gear morphed into legs with claws that sank into the ground. Then it returned to its normal state except for the resonance of a shadow. It waved along the exterior skin several times like a chameleon shifting its colors at high speed.

But after another moment, it stopped too. The ship was once again solid, just a piece of equipment or so Magnus hoped. Galvatron stared in unmoving disbelief. "Now I see why my story is not so far-fetched." he said quietly. "Was _that_ the Virus?"

"A symptom, yes."

Rusti almost swallowed air. "We gotta find Optimus and Roddi. They could be in trouble."

Magnus knew she was right, but he did not know if anything could be done to help them as they sunk further under Viral control.

Someone screamed amid the Genesis personnel. "There!" she cried. "They're coming from the Vertical Horizon!"

As if practiced, all bodies turned about face to the south. An assembly of figures made of rocks rose from the ground and approached the crowd.

Cyclonus fired first.

" . . . "

Magnus flinched and shifted comline frequencies. Someone on the Spiral Star struggled to get through.

Two Autobots fired at the 'rock figures' which staggered toward the group, unstable as zombies. Magnus tried to contact the Spiral Star again with no result. "Siren!" Magnus shouted, "you and Granit get the women and children to safety! Cyclonus, take the left side. Faren, two o'clock, central-B!"

Rusti took a final glance back as the Autobots and a few EDC officers battled the rock figures. It occurred to her how eerily similar they looked to another life form she encountered many years ago. But they could not possibly be anything like the Cyberwraith.

Magnus tried to get through to the Spiral Star before turning to Galvatron who shot four rock people in a row. Two of them came back together and one of them attacked Nightbeat, pummeling his armor. "Galvatron," Magnus called between shots, "One of us needs to find out what's happening on the Spiral Star. I can't get through-"

The ground broke before them and six Autobots fell into the trench. A huge mud monster rose. Its head yawned and came for Magnus and Galvatron.

Gryph shifted into a gryphon and shot through the enemy, forcing it to shower dirt and rocks upon the Autobots.

"I'll go," Galvatron volunteered.

**TWO DAYS LATER:**

a sense of urgency tugged at Roddi's head. He sat up and a headache slammed into him from the topside down.

"Ah, pleasant afternoon, Rodimus," Perceptor greeted cheerfully. "Nice to have you fully conscious."

"What happened?" Roddi assessed the room, It didn't look anything like the Dancing Siren or the Spiral Star.

"We . . . couldn't put you in the Dancing Siren or the Spiral Star. So Galvatron suggested the Trench Dr-"

"Whoa! Waitaminute! What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You said Galvatron."

"Yes. I did."

"So . . . when did he start calling the shots? I thought he was locked up." Roddi stared the scientist down, expecting a detailed account.

"Uh . . ."

The nanosecond Magnus' name escaped Perceptor's vox box, Rodimus charged off the Trench Driver.

Magnus spotted Roddi racing his way and he hurriedly signed Quasar's datapad before dismissing her; she did not need to hear their exchange.

"Mags!" Roddi greeted in a well-rehearsed cheerful manner.

"Here we go," Magnus muttered. He forced a smile upon greeting Roddi.

"One word for you," Rodimus Prime said when close enough, "Galvatron."

"Yes." Magnus replied simply.

Rodimus expected more but did not get it. "Okay. Since when did we allow _criminals_ to walk freely among us and make policy?"

I know it's difficult for you to deal with Galvatron, Rodimus. But you know, sometimes people change and it's not always for the worse."

"Magnus, this isn't some two-bit bank robber or loan shark. This is _Galvatron_. AKA Formerly Megatron the same bolthead who left you in pieces on Junkion. This is the same aft-express who sided with the Quintessons back in 2006, the _very_ same jerk who destroyed an entire planet populated by a species who communicated by music. You _do_ remember _him_, don't you?"

"I haven't forgotten, Rodimus. But in his defense, you've changed, too."

Roddi's optics flashed. "You're_ really_ making this difficult, Magnus. You_ simply_ can't be siding with him!"

Magnus' temper started to shorten. "I'm not _siding_ with ANYONE, alright? I needed help. Jazz was trapped on the Alvarez. Convoy was too far out on patrol. Titanium was up to his shoulder struts in rock monsters. I could not contact anyone on the Spiral Star. So I made a choice; I asked for help. And then I sent him off to deal with Daniel while I helped First Aid into a ready room. Optimus Prime was unconscious. You were catatonic. What was I supposed to do?"

Rodimus lined his lip components in confusion. "What did Daniel have to do with anything?"

Rodimus heard footfalls behind and swung about to stand next to Magnus. He glowered at Galvatron.

"Did someone mention Daniel?"

Magnus glared at Roddi. "Rodimus was just asking how your um . . . conversation went with Daniel Witwicky. Weren't you, Roddi?"

Rodimus crossed his arms defensively. "Sure. Among other things."

"Ah." Galvatron was not fooled. He grinned audio to audio. "Yes, I recall the conversation quite vividly. It was . . . bombastic. Uncivil. Barbaric. Naturally I allowed Daniel to have the last word."

Rodimus and Magnus shared confused expressions. But it was Magnus who spoke: "You mean you lost the argument to Daniel Witwicky?"

Galvatron laughed, sending surges throughout the Autobots' systems. It wasn't the stupid maniacal laughter of a mad mech. Nor was it the cackle of a megalomaniac. This was a deep, clean laughter and it did not sound like it should come from a person both Magnus and Rodimus knew over twenty years before. "No. I mean I allowed Daniel Witwicky to have the last word so I can laugh at him. Especially knowing that he'll wake on the Racing Beast with the headache from Torments." Galvatron gazed at the brown sky, optics thoughtful. "Wish I could be an Insecticon on that wall. Hmmm. As I recall, Humans tend to regurgitate with meta-processor overloads. Wish I could feel sorry for him. But I'm sure the feeling will pass."

Roddi's optics narrowed. "Did . . . No. You did not. You did not _shoot_ him."

Magnus dropped his jaw.

Roddi hotly pointed at Galvatron: "Humans are off limits to you!" then he pointed to Magnus, "and you _allowed_ that to happen."

"I gave you my reasons. I'm not going to repeat them." Magnus dimmed his optics, a sure sign of growing anger."

"Yeah, yeah. The point still stands."

Galvatron grinned again. "You're jealous because you did not think to do it yourself, Rodimus Prime. I don't know which is squishier; the puny flesh creature, or _you_."

Rodimus snarled, "This is not-you are not funny. This is not funny."

"No, it's hilarious." Galvatron smoothly countered. "you simply do not have a sense of humor."

Roddi's optics narrowed. "I have a sense of humor. I just don't think there's anything humorous about _you_."

"Oh." Galvatron returned with sarcasm. "Wish I could help, but the level of sophistication involves-"

"STOP!" Magnus ordered, "both of you! There is too much to be done for you to just stand here!"

Rodimus turned his snarl on Magnus. "Then lock up Optimus' pet _hamster_ and hand me the duty roster." Rodimus took Magnus' digipad but did not read it before he spotted Optimus touring the camp, Arcee at his side. Roddi whacked the digipad against Magnus' midriff. "Never mind," he growled. "I have something better to do. And _lock him up!_ Roddi stomped off.

Galvatron lay an arm across his forehead, feigning melodrama: "woe to me. Always the jailbird, never the jailer."

Magnus growled, "_stop it."_

Just like Roddi, Optimus did not ask permission to leave medical. Four star cruisers still required hyperdrive adjustments. Optimus contained his delight with a dose of caution. They needed supplies to finish the Sagittarian Mozart. The Saber's Claw lacked an extra set of Zeta-silver charging boosters (for retro-thrusters). The Interrogator had to have its drive conjunction rewelded. And the Razor Lady simply needed pest control. With any measure of luck, they could leave Cratis from a few days to a week.

Knowing better than to walk out the front plank, Optimus exited the ship by way of the back hatch. He paused a moment, considering how many times he managed to sneak out of medbay before Ratchet noticed his absence. Unlike First Aid, however, Ratchet always managed to get someone to help him haul Optimus back to medical.

Ratchet was a crotchety, demanding medic, but the best there was. Optimus was never more grateful when the doctor agreed to accompany him on that last mission from Cybertron. Of course, Ratchet made a fuss over it because of Teletran-which he and Wheeljack built out of stolen Decepticon parts. But never did Optimus have a better computer system-and never could he have asked for a better medical and science team.

He recalled even before meeting Ratchet there was Quinary, the CMO for the Council of Elders. She was direct, honest and stubborn. More than once Quinary reminded Optimus how she watched Sentinel Prime die. She was not going to watch Optimus go the same route.

She died years later of a lab accident, or so he was told.

Prime turned under the Spiral Star's port side wing and found Arcee huddled near the landing gear. She tightly clutched a digipad like a little girl her lost dolly. Bowed over, the femme rocked once then again, softly mourning.

He silently approached and knelt respectively before her. "Arcee," he said in a gentle tone.

She straightened a little but could not lift her optics to meet him. "He won't leave me alone. It doesn't matter where I go, what I do. He finds a way."

Optimus gently took the digipad and Arcee covered her face.

_Your rejection has cost me my soul. I bleed. I guess that's what you want. Perhaps I should finish the job. Maybe you'll feel better when I'm gone. You leave me to bleed. You leave me to die. _

_Remember that I will die hating you and I hope you live a long life filled with remorse and solitude. You will pay for doing this to me. You're a traitor and no one will ever trust you again._

_I will see to it that you will be found guilty of reprehensible crimes. I know what you did to me. I know what you wanted to do to Brian. I know what you did to Resonna. _

_Bitch. I hate what you did to my family. You ruined my son's life. You brainwashed my daughter so that she believes she's in love with a robot._

_You're a social whore. No one wants you now, Arcee. I might forgive you. _

_On the other hand, I might not live long enough. I don't know. _

_You did this to me. You wanted the separation. You wanted me dead. I hope you're happy right now. Because you won't be happy later on._

_I'll make sure of that._

Optimus stared intently at her. "Daniel wrote this, didn't he?" he waited a moment but she still did not speak, did not look up. "Arcee."

"Yes. But please . . . I, I-"

"You're not at fault. This is a lie, Arcee and I want you to put it out of your head." he forced her to look him in the optic. "He is manipulating you. I want you to know that I have nothing but admiration and confidence in you. Whatever he says, _Rodimus and I_ say he's wrong."

Arcee finally looked at her commander. Optimus didn't just say 'I', he said he and Rodimus. No matter what Daniel said in the letter, her commanders trusted and admired her. Arcee slowly came out of despondency and allowed Optimus to help her to her feet.

"Now, I'm still behind on current events, Arcee. Perhaps you would not mind telling me what's happened in my absence."

"Didn't you read Magnus' reports?"

"Not all of them."

She strolled beside him as they toured the grounds, simply passing the ships one at a time. Arcee did not know what made her think Optimus walked more slowly than usual. Nor did she understand why she thought his colors seemed a little off. But she humored him and started back when they managed to escape Earth.

Arcee told him of their little venture with some strange monster that had taken the space station at Gate O9-A and their close call between the defenders at Centaurus and the Quintessons that nearly fried them. She also informed him of the Centaurian ambassador's 'bill' for a new space station.

"Heh. Sounds like something he'd say. How many cruisers? Three? Did he say where he bought them, Arcee?"

"No. He simply told Rodimus to put it on your tab."

Optimus paused and glanced about the refugee camp. Something touched his senses just at the borders; just enough to get his attention.

"Optimus?" Arcee chirped. "What is it?"

"The ship . . . " Prime approached the Gabriel Genesis as a group of women carried out packs of rations for the children on the Razor Lady. Prime touched the outer hull. Something happened to the ship, but he could not quite read it.

_"There you are!"_

Arcee saw an eerie glow cross Roddi's face. Sudden fear struck her and she peered into Optimus' optics and found the same thing. The femme slowly backed away. Her laser core vibrated strongly. Optimus did not notice the distance she put between them.

Optimus smiled as Rodimus stomped his way. "Good morning, Rodimus."

Arcee turned, transformed and raced off.

"Don't you 'good-morning' me, Mister!"

"Okay."

"Are you aware that Galvatron _shot_ Daniel?"

"He didn't miss, did he?" Some small part of Optimus wondered why he said that. It made little sense to make fun of a situation that could have gone very wrong. The rest of him, however, thought the incident amusing. Images of smeared human remains lying on the ground like scruff marks entertained Void-Optimus.

Indignant, Rodimus fumed. He considered slapping the life out of the Senior Prime. His optics narrowed; a crazed animal prepared to strike. "There was an agreement, was there not, that neither he nor Cyclonus were to be around Humans. We agreed upon a rule that weapons were forbidden. _Period_. Both directives have been broken."

Optimus honestly struggled to understand why Rodimus was so put-out by the whole ordeal. Why was he so mad? Everyone had weapons here. And being around Humans was inevitable. After all, Optimus himself was constantly surrounded by the Little People. They were cute. He swiftly glanced about the ground, looking for the Little People but did not see any at the moment. Optimus was sure they were around. Maybe they were hiding. Cute little things! They were shy!

Maybe the argument between he and Roddi frightened them. He faced Rodimus with a light expression: "Shouldn't we discuss this someplace private?"

"Awe, afraid our potential argument will upset the children?"

"They still do not need to watch us argue."

"It concerns Decepticons YOU BROUGHT TO US, SO WE'RE DOING IT OUT HERE ANYWAY! I have a right and a responsibility NOT to trust anything wearing the war crest. In case you've forgotten, Prime, Autobot season never closes."

"I don't understand why you don't trust my judgment."

"Ha! Two words: MATRIX VIRUS."

"Is that what's put you in a bad mood? Or have you just lost your objectivity?"

"Objectivity has NOTHING to do with it!" Rodimus shouted. "While you were passing through Wonderland with Laughing Boy and Mr. Spock, we've had our ASSES HANDED to us on a platinum platter-more than once. And the fact that you have the blatant AUDACITY to bring us two decompiled rejects only proves your poor judgment and incompetence as a leader."

Void hissed distorted thoughts. Why was it so important that Optimus listened and valued what Rodimus said, anyway? He was . . . _punk._ _Dislogic._ Incorrect calculations. Prime grew less aware of their argument and more cognizant of changes in the air, changes in the ground. He spoke, but was not with his own words or his own voice.

Negative. He said nothing. Void said it all. Void was smarter than he, anyways. "As I recall, Roddi-Doo-Dah, it was YOUR brilliant idea for us to take on separate lives. 'Oh for the good of everybody else', you said. You and I were both aware the Quintessons planned an attack. Maybe you knew the Quints would hit Zenith before we could finish the shields and battle procedures. Maybe you were hoping I'd die on Mars."

"HA!" Roddi countered, "While we're on the subject of extermination, let's push it a step further and order a _triple_ execution; two Decepticon criminals and an Autobot traitor." Rodimus' optics dipped into a disturbing dark blue.

"You'd better make sure you kill to _terminate_ at that point," Optimus voice dipped even further. "And try not to miss; I might jump bodies!" Optimus charged like a raving beast. A scream came from him like Roddi hadn't heard before. They smashed the ground and rolled until Rodimus took control. He pounded Optimus's head against the Genesis' landing gear until Optimus thwacked Roddi so hard, the Autobot leader flew through the air. His landing left a good track sixteen yards long.

Like the god of vengeance, Rodimus merely rebounded and trained in for another shot. Optimus slammed him with the same strike that often scrambled Megatron's equilibrium circuits. But that was one strike Rodimus knew well and he flew with the momentum, hand springing back. He slid gracefully in the dirt, transformed and floored his acceleration.

Missing Optimus entirely, the Autobot leader smashed into the Gabriel Genesis, leaving a nice Roddi-mark in the side. He dug his tires deep into Cratian soil and jammed for his Viral opponent with a jet of dust.

Optimus waited as Roddi barreled through the camp for him. He kept his timing perfect and when Rodimus was just in range, he sprang against Roddi's hood, twisted round and caught the top of Rodimus' trailer.

"_Nice move!" _Rodimus congratulated. "Now survive this one!" With a hard pan to the right, Rodimus ruthlessly spun and drifted so that his weight tipped and he and Optimus rolled; he over the top.

Optimus grunted with the crushing weight, his body sank into the ground.

Rodimus made the mistake, however, of getting up too soon. He transformed and stood swift and well-balanced. He did not intend for Optimus to hitch himself up at the same time. The second Optimus landed on his feet, his right foot contacted Rodimus' chin and Prime flew hard and fast. He collided with the Saber's Claw across the camp. But he shot back and again tangled with Optimus. They tumbled head over foretoes until Optimus got the pin. Rodimus snarled ugly and landed him a powerful right cross. Optimus not only rolled off, but slid back. The second he stood, Roddi dished him the very same kick to the chin.

Optimus landed hard face-down and rather than getting up again, shifted to truck mode minus the trailer. He swerved, whisking dirt and stones in a curved shower.

Rodimus stood in a haze. He thought he was reliving a dream. The heavy stagnant air forced him to stand a moment while he watched Optimus race out the camp faster than he'd ever seen his friend move.

"_Here, Roddi, Roddi, Roddi._" Optimus baited over their comlinks. His disturbing voice dared Rodimus to come outside the camp.

Old memories washed over him; memories of things Rodimus tried to bury deep so that he could never access them. But Void, treacherous and cruel, did whatever was necessary to keep them fighting. "_Can Optimus come out to play?" _

The answer was always the same: Of course! Rodimus grinned and transformed, spinning rocks and dirt at the Gabriel Genesis before chasing Optimus out the valley east of the camp. Mostly untouched by the three week-old battle, the fresh terrain offered many natural obstacles the two Primes could not see in their Viral haze. Old holes left by animals, huge stones and an occasional ancient tree stump rattled and jolted their vehicle modes until they came to a dry riverbed. Their hot engines revved in an unannounced race. Optimus edged forward, then Rodimus. Rodimus' mode paced just half a car faster until Optimus floored it and they remained nose-to-nose for seven minutes. Roddi growled and pushed until he finally left his playmate in the dust-so to say.

He laughed. _Old timer. Last year's model. Outdated. Expired. Previously-owned._ He laughed. The last one was the best. Optimus kept coming for him and as high as Rodimus was with his fuel lines running high and hot, he dared the Senior Prime to just keep coming. He cupped his hands, inviting.

Just like Optimus, Rodimus had his moments of bad decisions. Optimus came at him so fast, Rodimus did not know he was hit until he lay flat on his back, partially buried, his adversary on top.

Optimus bled from under his face plate and bled from under his helm. He bled from under his chest plate and at the hips. He oxidated, his body so overheated Rodimus, the ground and the stones around them rose in temperature.

Roddi felt his exostructure peel and he struggled. The image of a fly straining against the grip of a praying mantis flashed through his mind. For the first time, Rodimus was truly afraid. He tried to gain leverage with his knees, but Optimus sat on top of his thighs, hands clasped painfully tight round Roddi's wrists.

"_Here, Roddi, Roddi, Roddi."_

No! That was not-he did NOT-could NOT have seen that! Rodimus struggled, fear weakened in face of a nightmare that would not end.

A searing vice bit and tore into his right shoulder. Pain shot through his systems, shock followed, disbelief, unreality.

NO! NO!

_Oh shit!_

Rodimus finally managed to transfer the agony into strength and he delivered as hard a head-butt as he could to obtain room and momentum to flee. Now released from Optimus' grip, Rodimus rolled, his shoulder blazing in pain.

He did not get far before Optimus-Void grabbed him at the ankles and pulled him back-caught in a Viral web. Caught by one of the most powerful Autobots in their present society. Caught-

Rodimus tried not to see it-he certainly could not believe his optics-Optimus _bit him!_ More than that, Optimus tore a chunk out of his shoulder.

Roddi managed to slip a leg from his opponent's grip and kicked the Senior Prime off. Rodimus bounced to his feet. He transformed and raced off. He did not know or care where he went, he just needed distance to think, to come to terms what he saw. He saw it, he did not see it.

No. He saw it; he did not want to _remember_ seeing it. It was not real! It was not real! But his damaged, bleeding, aching shoulder assured him he saw it.

His alt mode hit a rock and tipped. Roddi transformed as Optimus came barreling after him again in speeds faster than he should be able to move.

Rodimus suddenly laughed and it caused the other Prime to skid to a stop and transform. Rodimus kept laughing.

Optimus stomped over laser-scarred ground. Dust and ashes billowed about his heavy footfalls. "Explain non-logic. Actions of inconsistences . . . incongruent with attempted mind games.

"Awe! You're upset cuz you don't get it? Go ask the Girl. Better yet, ask the Decepticon."

"We have no words for the Son of Zh'Xn. The policies cannot be trusted."

Rodimus stood, staring down an Optimus so possessed by the Virus, his colors drowned toward the dark. His violet optics swished with black that waved along the bottom ridges.

For a long, clear moment, Rodimus realized what was happening. He raced inwardly to take advantage of Void's confusion. He raced for greater non-logic. No more nursery rhymes. No gimmicks. He believed the Virus tried to circumvent the non-logic by shifting tactics. "You cannot control the both of us at the same time. You cannot win this way."

Optimus stared, his optics resembled a dead mech's expression and Roddi kept his face straight, hiding his revulsion.

"SSSSSSUUUUNNN." Void-Optimus hissed. "SSSSUUUUNN."

Heat caused by Void gradually left Roddi and his systems cooled. "What are you saying? Sun-what? Are you calling me a son-of-a-bitch? New one for you, isn't it, Precious?" a grin spread over his face until Rodimus realized how creepy the moment really was. He was talking to Optimus who had become so infected with the Virus he was almost mentally a part of it.

Or maybe that it had become a permanent part of him.

So why did Roddi himself snap out of it this time?

Down deep, something told him he _liked_ the feel of the Virus inside him.

It was a lie and one the Virus tried to convince him as truth. "No, no. I'm not falling for that. Not this time. Maybe never again."

Neither the right thing to say nor the right time to say it. Optimus practically bulldozed him into the ground.

As Prime's huge hands squeezed Rodimus' neck, the Autobot leader wondered exactly what triggered the Virus to pit them against one another all the time. Did it find pleasure in the fight? Did it enjoy watching them tear each other apart?

Roddi thought about his shoulder. Then he thought about the awful vision he had earlier; the gravestone, the tree the lack of regret.

"Optimus," he whispered. Fuel supply and hemotricity slowly drained from his meta processor. "Optimus . . . you vowed to protect life . . ." Roddi struggled for air to keep his systems cool. "Op . . . I _am_ a life form. Not the Virus. Listen to me . . . it's _lying_ to you."

The Virus let go of Roddi's neck and he choked and coughed up blocked fluids. But Prime's body pinned him so that Rodimus could not get up.

Prime bent over, faceplate next to audio receptor. "Is there places to hide?"

Void mocked him. The answer was no. No place to run. No place to hide.

MINE.

"Not without a fight. Don't think I don't know you're fighting Optimus for control."

Optimus' faceplate split in a gruesome display of jagged metal teeth.

Rodimus could not hide his horror. But isn't that exactly what Void wanted? Was it, in fact, feeding off his emotions by using Optimus to invoke them? Roddi considered it in spite of the awful vision before him. And then he hoped nothing tongue-like came out of that maw. Rodimus struggled to control the urge to cringe at the thought.

Think of Galvatron. Yeah. That's enough to bring anyone's emotions under some semblance of control. At least until he got pissed over that situation again. Rodimus calmed even under Optimus' weight on his thorax. "Come on, Void, you parasitic _shithead_. EITHER EAT ME OR LEAVE!!"

Void-Optimus hissed and the next one-tenth of a second, he was gone.

It took another three seconds for Roddi to register that Optimus was no longer sitting on him. He sat partly up on his elbow, glancing about the desert, bewildered. No sign of Optimus. But Roddi felt Void everywhere; the air, the ground, the camp . . . the Gabriel Genesis and the watching crowd.

Why would Magnus allow them to watch? Roddi felt horribly exposed. "Go away," he was too tired and too pained to raise his voice. Fluids dripped from his injured right shoulder. He felt light-headed from the strangulation and now depressed that Optimus had fallen so far under Viral control.

Rodimus dropped his optics ground-ward. Should he and Optimus even leave the planet? No matter where they went, they took their 'pet' with them.

Roddi lifted his optics, meeting the rude, staring crowd. He clambered awkwardly to his feet and staggered a good yard or more. "What's the MATTER with you people?!" he demanded. "TAKE A HIKE!" The closer he came to the Autobots and Humans, the more clearly their faces became.

Haunted visages of individuals who were not a part of the refugee group stood before him. The Humans all had skeletal faces, holes worn into skin-toned skulls. Likewise, the Autobots had light grey optics, their expression neutral. They weren't even looking at Roddi.

Now Rodimus recognized a couple of them: Aero. Zoic. Marine . . . Autobots who died two years ago when Void first appeared publicly.

_Rrrachitak!_

Optimus' teeth appeared from nowhere and Rodimus screamed and fell backward. He heard nothing until the teeth were right there.

Roddi lay still, forced to take in filthy, smelly Cratian air. Then he got mad. "Goddam it!" Roddi struggled against soft ash to stand and slipped. "Void! You shithead!!"

He tried to get up again and now saw his ...'co-victim'. Roddi sat on his knees, a sigh heaved from his chest. "Op," he said in a sad voice. "Op, don't worry about the crowd, they're just memories."

Optimus lay partly on his left side, facing downward. His optics stared into nothing. His fingers slowly clawed at the dirt. He neither moved nor spoke.

Roddi sat still, waiting. Was the Virus done? Did it have its fill? Was that damned thing _ever_ fully satisfied? "Op . . . please let me know that I'm speaking to the real Optimus Prime."

Nothing. Nothing.

Roddi hated moments like this.

The Autobot leader patched into Magnus' comline. "Mags . . ." his voice quavered, he trembled. "is everything okay? Is everyone-"

"We're fine, Rodimus. Are you okay, do you need help?"

"Eh . . . I'll live. Unfortunately, so will that _thing_." Roddi waited. His sensors tracked Optimus' life signs. "Optimus. I'm not sure what's wrong."

"Don't move," Magnus came back hastily. "Let me get out there-"

"NO!" Rodimus objected. "You stay put until I know it's safe. If necessary, I want you to be ready to kill us."

Magnus frowned and shook his head but said nothing.

Rodimus crawled but stayed careful with his injured right shoulder. He scanned Optimus' temperature. It was almost normal. He checked for color abnormalities and checked Prime's optics. Everything seemed okay. Rodimus noticed some bleeding along Optimus' cylindrical endostructual stabilizers and tears along his friend's back. There was no reason for them to be there, unless Rodimus himself made them. He slowly, cautiously examined Prime's faceplate especially along the middle.

Not one line or crease existed to prove what

Void did through the Autobot leader.

The fact that Optimus lay absolutely still and silent bothered Roddi. Not that Rodimus thought Optimus was seriously injured, but that he had withdrawn.

_Oh please, please, please,_ Roddi thought, _don't make me go against another emotional wall!_ He searched the dirty brown sky. "I can't go through this again," he said out loud. "Optimus, you _have_ to talk to me."

The silence tormented him as much as the Matrix-memories and having remembered them, Roddi glanced toward the ship.

But they were gone.

And the day was fading.

"Mags?" Roddi finally called.

"Yes! Are you okay?"

"Depends on your definition. Get someone out here, will ya? Op . . . Optimus has had a meltdown, maybe a crash." Roddi ignored Magnus's sign-off and in spite of the agony it cost him, he laid on his side to face Optimus. He watched as his _vyrestix_ stared into nothing. Optimus was awake, aware, but unable to communicate. Rodimus wished he knew what to say to make things better, if not all right. He took Optimus' hand and held it. He wondered what was to become of them and where they were to go from here.

Vaguely Roddi heard the Autobot medic team as they arrived. Magnus and First Aid shouted orders that Roddi could no longer make out. They were here to take him and Optimus back to the camp. 'Aid's assistants separated his hand from Optimus'. _Forgive me_, Roddi thought sadly, _I should know how to fix this. I can't._

**On the Cold Refractor:**

All Humans/organics spent the night on the Cold Refractor. It was not one of Rusti's more favored ships. The Refractor was once a business vessel that was used largely as a roving motel for business conventions.

But that was not the only reason for her dislike. She wanted to be out _there_. She wanted to know what was going on. She could not communicate with either Roddi or Optimus and sensation she picked up conflicted itself.

It was the Virus.

It was not.

It was.

It wasn't.

She kept thinking of it over and over-and remembered how someone mentioned the Virus could take memories and give them physical form.

How? The damned thing was just a parasite!

And yet it spoke.

And yet is understood the concept of mind games.

And yet it understood the difference between Optimus and Rodimus, other Autobots and apparently Decepticons. Although Rusti did not know how well Void recognized Galvatron, if at all.

She sat with everyone else in conference Room Number Two. They all waited impatiently, hungry for news. Everyone asked one another what it was exactly they saw outside.

Some speculated it was an alien intelligence trying to communicate and that Magnus and his Decepticon thugs haphazardly shot the alien before anyone could communicate with them.

Others thought the rock-creatures might have been some new form of Decepticon.

A couple of people were closer to the mark: something Virus-inspired.

Sitting at the double doors, Rusti thought how she'd love to tie Void to the ceiling and rip its legs off one at a time. _Does that hurt?_ She'd ask, _does this?_

They never did find the baby alien on the Frostbite and Rusti began to doubt whether it existed at all. She missed its little squeak.

One of the 'head mothers' from the Razor Lady approached Rusti with several metal boxes in her arms. "Have you had anything to eat?"

Rusti tried to recall the last time she ate. She shook her head and the lady dropped a box in her hands before attending someone else.

One thing was certain about the whole refugee-thing: Rusti knew she'd not have to concern herself over dieting anytime soon. She opened the box. Dried fruit. Whole wheat crackers with crunchy peanut butter. A small container offered dried creamed soup. Three other packets contained water, juice and V8-Fusion. Cheese and a small bar of chocolate also hugged the edges. A good portion of rope-jerky rounded the box, intended for the rest of the day. The box itself was to be either picked up by a collector or dropped off at the Frostbite.

Rusti ate quietly while children and adults conversed or fussed over portions or taste. It did not matter how much or how good or bad the food was; it was food. One guy had the audacity to ask for some 'real' food. He was told he got what was available. But obviously it wasn't enough for him and he raised his voice and an argument ensued.

Rusti rolled her eyes. He could have lost his life or ended up a slave or maybe Inoux lunch or worse.

As she removed one of four packets of dried fruit, Rusti found an education brochure about depression, anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder. Just for entertainment purposes, she unfolded the colorful brochure done in a comic book style.

Dorky, but cleaver.

She read it just to stave off her boredom. There was a private detective, a 'damsel in distress', someone's pet cat, a rock star and a waitress and her pet ferret involved.

Rusti almost laughed. This _had_ to be Roddi's conception.

At the end of the brochure/comic, symptoms were listed and carefully explained. And to Rusti's dismay, Optimus and Rodimus fit each description of depression.

She also had a few symptoms. But the girl figured there was probably not one person in the camp that did not suffer from something. She just wondered what kept the two Primes going.

Pillows and blankets were passed around to encourage people-especially children-to relax while they waited for word.

Rusti quickly ate the rest of the meal and pocketed the dried fruit and jerky for later. If they closed the Cold Refractor, she'd not get the chance to sneak out later.

Handing the meal box to a collector, she made a beeline out the conference room-or would have had EDC officer Terrika Vazquez not caught her. "Na-uh. No one leaves."

"I have to go."

"Absolutely not. Orders are for everyone to stay put until further notice."

Rusti did not know how to explain her drive to see Roddi and Optimus. It was something she _had_ to do. She relaxed in Vazquez's grip and started walking back. She took five steps and inwardly listened to the Cold Refractor. The ship was sound and in good condition.

_Request permission to disembark_, she asked it. The ship had a personality, but Rusti was not sure if it would listen to her. _Please, please, please! I really need help!_

STATE NATURE OF EMERGENCY.

Ah-ha!

Rusti, her back to Officer Vazquez, smiled mischievously.

In spite of years of training, Vazquez still did not see it coming. Without warning or authorization, the conference room doors swished open. Rusti dashed for them. Vazquez attempted to stop her with a simple hold but she did not account for Rusti's own training playing with Dinobots. She slipped under Vazquez and rolled to her feet, running.

Vazquez turned to chase but the doors clanged shut. She pounded the doors. "Open this thing NOW!"

Rusti slipped off the Refractor with a formalized thank you to the ship's computer/personality. She disembarked as a small procession ushered the Autobot leaders on board the Dancing Siren. Evening shadows deepened across the camp and Rusti knew this was as good a time as any to cut across the grounds.

She made a hasty five hundred-yard dash but got no further than two hundred eighty when someone's metal foot landed in front of her.

Rusti slid in her tracks skinning her elbows and scraping her shoes. Her eyes were met by a set of street-light red optics.

Galvatron grinned.

"Ah. Night watch. My favorite occupation. All the wildlife I could ask for. Everyone's quiet-asleep and if I'm extra lucky, I'll even encounter someone sneaking around."

In spite of pained elbows, Rusti stood and brushed her ragged jeans. "I'm not sneaking," she countered matter of fact.

"Oh. My mistake. You were merely dodging make- believe subterranean bombs or cracks in the ground so you'd not break anyone's back."

She stoutly remained unfazed by his humor. "I need to get to the Dancing Siren to check on Roddi and Optimus."

"Oh. I see. You don't trust the current collection of Autobot medics to do their job, ergo, you feel the necessity to supervise them."

"Your sarcasm is noted, Galvatron. What do you want?"

"Oh! Did I say I wanted something?"

"You're a Decepticon. Never do something unless it's profitable."

"Oooh! Ouch!" Galvatron winced playfully.

"Reputation is everything."

"No one warned me about _yours_. I'm at a disadvantage-"

"GALVATRON!"

"Yes. I'd like an advocate."

"Magnus."

"No. Not Prime's judiciary, straight-faced disciplinarian. Don't misunderstand me . . . erm, Miss Rusti. I respect Ultra Magnus. But he doesn't have enough pull."

"He's _the_ city commander, third in command. It doesn't get better than that."

"Even Magnus cannot keep us out of the brig forever. Decepticons do not fare well in cages, Miss Rusti."

"I understand. And I know you guys haven't done anything but help out."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. You're not quite worthy of most of the local gossip."

Galvatron got all the way on his thorax, head propped by his hands, attention rapt on the girl. He looked like a little kid, staring at the TV on Saturday morning. "Is that so? Do tell me what they say!"

"The Dancing Siren."

"An advocate."

"Magnus."

"Won't be enough. What's the gossip?"

"GALVATRON!"

He sat up and leaned over. "Look, no one will take me or Cyclonus for what we are, no matter how good we've been. Magnus will sooner or later buckle under pressure-Rodimus will kick his aft and he knows it. I need someone who knows how to talk to these guys and considering how Optimus feels about you, I figure Rodimus _might_ be willing to lend in an audio receptor."

Rusti scrunched her face. "All that just to get me on the Dancing Siren?"

"Put the rest on my tab."

"I was _raised_ by Rodimus Prime. You might live to regret that offer."

Galvatron leaned further over and whispered, "I was a speck of dust once. _Nothing_ frightens me."

Rusti smooshed her brows, confused. She could not tell if Galvatron was truthful, using a metaphor or pulling her leg. She finally glanced away, shaking her head. "Alright. Okay." she stared into his bright optics. "I'll discuss the matter at length with Magnus and maybe between us we can cook up something."

"You won't regret it." he promised.

"Galvatron, you had _better_ stick to that cuz if you don't, you will."

He caught that. At first, the very first nactoseconds, the Decepticon was not sure he saw it, but decided he did: he saw her eyes go straight blue for just half the second. Just enough to make him realize why Optimus thought so much-and mooned so pitifully-and Galvatron decided not to follow that thought; it was bad enough Cyclonus reminded him of the lady he loved just once.

That was a wound that would never close.

Galvatron escorted her safely and inconspicuously across the camp. They were met once by Fire Flight who stopped Galvatron long enough to ask when he reported to Magnus last.

"Twenty moments ago. I am reporting again right now."

Satisfied, the Aerialbot departed and Galvatron led Rusti forward.

She did not need to ask anyone for directions the moment they stepped onto the Siren. Galvatron followed the girl who listened to the ship as it communicated across a broad range of frequencies.

Galvatron waited outside the door when the girl slipped in.

First Aid worked diligently on Roddi's shoulder. The femme quietly mentioned how Roddi's line of consciousness faded in and out.

First Aid mourned sadly as he aligned a torn transformation component. "I just don't know what to do for them. They're both dying and all I can do is watch."

Rusti found herself a small dark corner and settled in, hoping she'd remain undetected. The Dancing Siren promised not to alert her presence to the Autobot medic as long as she made mention of its three main requests. But its requests would have to wait until either Roddi or Optimus woke.

That was not for several long, laborious hours.

**

"I am so sorry to drag you though this. I wanted so much better for you no matter how much it hurt me. I am so sorry."

Rusti wok with a cramp in her neck and backside. But seeing Optimus awake, conscious and looking at her made the misery worth while. She stood and cracked joints and pained muscles. "I don't regret it-except that I'm too darn short."

He rolled half over and dangled his hand, fingers twitching. She took that as an invitation and grasped his hand. He lifted her and resumed his former position. [[_I always miss you._]] he sent.

She tenderly kissed his left audio and rubbed away a bit of an oil spot at the cleft of his helm. He lay there, staring at her, nothing more to say.

"Please don't regret this," she whispered. "Did you not think that if it's not what I wanted, I would have still accepted?" she watched as a silent gleam washed from the top portion of his optic and silently bled across his old factory, over his face plate.

"What have I done? Is Roddi . . . is Rodimus . . . I did something but I can't remember."

Rusti glanced across the room where Roddi now rested, his body pinned by braces and straps to keep him from moving while a fluid line slowly replenished what he lost in the fight.

Rusti heard the Siren pass on from First Aid that Roddi had torn his shoulder further by lying on it. She gazed back to her love. "You know Roddi. He's feisty. He'll stay alive just to make sure he can find another way to annoy you." she watched as more silken fluid streamed over Optimus' face. She realized now it was a tear. She stripped her shirt and blotted the trail dry.

"I can't remember, Rusti. I know there was an argument. I didn't want to argue. But . . . but it was like sliding down someone's throat. I felt suffocated."

She tried to wring her shirt out but the fluid was an odd mixture of oils and water; it did not wring well. "I was not told anything, My Love. They said nothing. But then . . . they don't know about us. So, I get nothing."

Another tear cascaded across his face. Rusti wiped it, too, then kissed the edge of his faceplate. "I wish I could save you." she said sadly. "How could I possibly save you when I don't know where to begin?"

Drowning in depression, Optimus did not have an answer for her. His fingers moved slightly as though he wanted to move but they were the only part of his body that attempted the feat. "I love you, Rusti." his voice came soft and sad. "I think . . . I think First Aid is coming. Maybe if we're naughty, I could pretend to still be unconscious and he'd leave us alone for a while longer."

She grinned and slipped the oily shirt back on.

First Aid peeked in and took a glance at Optimus' chart first then checked on Rodimus. He made several adjustments to the pins and straps then the feed before turning back to Optimus. There he spotted Rusti and dipped his chin, tilting his head slightly left.

He was not excited to see her. "How long have you been here, Miss Witwicky?"

"A few hours." Rusti did not think it wise to give him an exact answer.

First Aid replaced the digipad on the wall and examined the monitors. "Well, I don't expect things to change for either of them for a while." Rusti suspected the medic was trying to be diplomatic; trying to hint that her presence was not necessary. "He's most likely not even aware of you."

Rusti could not -dared not- answer that. It seemed to her she was more aware of Optimus and Roddi than the rest of the Autobots. Besides, she was not going to leave just because Fist Aid thought her presence was useless. "What of Roddi?" she asked, keeping her voice down.

First Aid could not answer her. He turned away and silently departed.

Rusti sighed, eaten by guilt. "he's not happy. Should I apologize?"

[[_the truth of it is, I do not care. I don't want a stale room filled with dead silence and neither does Roddi. We get enough of that from the Matrix. First Aid does not understand and there is nothing you can say that will help._]]

"A stale room? Weren't you the one who designed most of the ships?" Rusti took a better gaze at the room. It really was not stale. The room was designed to shift and adjust at anyone's whim. Rusti believed even Skyfire could fit in such a room.

"Only the preliminary ideas, Rusti," Prime answered. He slowly started to drift back to sleep. "I did not think posters and paintings were essential."

Rusti watched his optics dim, grateful he felt comfortable in her presence. She checked Roddi again who remained motionless in reinforced unconsciousness. She could tell he suffered through nightmares, the kind that would not allow him to wake.

What were the Autobots going to do about it all?

She leaned over and pressed her lips to Optimus' helm. "Well, Love," she whispered, "if I had the materials, I'd do a painting for you. I guess you'll just have to wait."

[[_I have you. I don't need a painting._]]

Optimus left Rusti soundly sleeping in the room. He covered her and asked Apogee as she passed to see to it Rusti remained undisturbed. He did not have medical leave and Prime knew First Aid's patience was wearing thin.

So rather than find a completely secluded area away from the camp, the Autobot leader merely climbed atop the Dancing Siren and sat there. Now he could technically say he never left medbay; just moved to another part of the ship. It would not keep him from being in trouble; it'd just make Rodimus crack up.

That was good because they did not have much to laugh about right now.

Prioritize, Optimus told himself. They needed a plan of action, a way to deal with Void, a way off Cratis . . but his attention drifted like the dust devils across the debris field to the south.

Why did they not plan better? Why didn't they build more ships? Why didn't they post more warning satellites? Why wasn't he more careful?

Not very good at leading. Not very _Primeful_ of him.

Why, why, why was he brought back?

Quiet feet did not tap quietly enough as they approached.

Optimus could not look Roddi in the optic. He wondered if he bit off more than a shoulder. Maybe next time it _would_ be more.

"Excuse me," Roddi's quiet tenor voice filtered through the stale air. "Is the dimensional pocket next to you taken?"

Optimus shook his head, but did not speak.

Roddi plopped down and sat with his friend back-to-back. He stared out the north-eastern side, scanning the plains and the horizon. Rodimus half expected Optimus to pull away or come up with some lame excuse to leave. But Prime simply sat there, allowing Roddi to lean against his back.

Together they sat in silence. They watched the refugee camp come to life. They observed everyone work and handle children or equipment with measured tact and patience.

No one tired to contact them and all that took was a single glance from ultra Magnus on the ground. Optimus watched as the Major-General shook his head, speak to someone and walk off.

Rodimus did not need to know Magnus was there to know he spotted them. The camp's general mood lifted just a bit, especially when Slag and Sludge allowed themselves to be harnessed to a makeshift wagon loaded with kids.

Searchlight sat at the reigns while Repugnus rigged the harness about the two Dinobots. Roddi watched with a smile. He dared believe Pugnus' mischief would get the better of him and the little ride would turn into a race.

He was right and there went Strike Back and Gryph, trailing after the wayward Dinobots to bring chaos under control.

Still, both Primes remained silent and motionless through the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening.

At the last, night covered the world in darkness. Lights from the ships, firebrands and parameter watches dotted the camp's three-mile radius.

Rodimus switched visual settings and watched a bit of Cratis' alien wildlife rise from unmarked holes outside the parameter. He decided to break the silence between them: "Op?"

Long pause then: "Hm."

"Magnus is going to kick our afts. You know that, right?"

Pause. "Right."

Roddi sighed. He was tired, edgy and sick of Cratis. "Op?"

"Hm?"

"This whole thing . . . it's really frustrating."

Pause. "Everything, Roddi?"

Pause. "I feel so . . . inept."

"Like you failed at every turn?"

"Yeah."

"As though everything you did completely backfired?"

"Yeah."

"As though you don't deserve to be a Prime?"

"I didn't ask for this position."

"I know."

"Don't we get a refund due to lack of interest and satisfaction?"

"I think I tried that . . . a long time ago."

Rodimus realized right then they were talking. Not about the Autobots, not about business or routine issues. Just talking. He shifted from behind Optimus to sit next to him. Quiet, he told himself. Maybe, just maybe Op will say something voluntarily.

Patience sucked.

But Rodimus noticed how the Senior Prime tried to look at him without looking at him. _Just say it!_ Roddi screamed in his mind. _Whatever's on your mind, just say it!_ Roddi kept his gaze on Fireflight who reported to Gryph and exchanged information and digipads.

Fifteen moments passed and Prime still said nothing. Rodimus figured wherever they might have gone in conversation simply would not take place. Deflated, he bowed over and doubted there would come a time when he did not have to force something out of Prime.

It was simply unfair. Rodimus thought about getting up to leave when Optimus moved, turning toward him, optics downcast.

"Roddi," he almost did not speak. "I've been trying to find some . . . worthy, elaborate words. But nothing seems good enough."

The edge of Rodimus' helm tingled as Optimus gently traced it. His hand dropped back. Rodimus could only stare, astonished.

"Noting I could say could ever take back what I've done and all I can do from here is say how incredibly sorry I am. I did not fight hard enough. I did not stop it in time. I did not keep guard. I am so sorry. Not just for attacking you, but for not being more alert. I wasn't there when you needed . . . I completely failed you."

Rodimus choked. "No you didn't!" he took Optimus' hands and tried to make optical contact. "I would not even be here hadn't you been there for me. "Op . . Op!' he stared intently into his vyretix's face.

Prime finally looked at him. "I'm staying."

"What?"

"I think I can convince the Virus all it needs is me. You can leave the Matrix-"

Rodimus vigorously shook his head. "No."

"And you go on-"

"No!"

"-to Yolthanis III for help-"

"No!"

"Roddi!"

"No! I'm not leaving you-"

"Rod-"

"you're not winning this argument. I'm staying too. Magnus can take-"

"-you can't stay-"

"-the others-"

"-cause then Rusti will want to stay-" Optimus was not going to lose the argument, no matter what Roddi said.

"-and he can babysit them or do whatever else Magnus does-"

"-then if she stays, Galvatron will insist-"

"-And Primus knows I'd rather not know-"

"-Naturally Cyclonus will too-"

"-cuz he's the only reason I'm glad to be a Prime."

"-and then everyone else will get jealous and want to stay too."

They stared at one another a long time, neither willing to budge.

They stared until Roddi looked confused. "Did ... did you mention Galvatron in there somewhere?"

Prime sighed, exasperated. "I just drew a-"

"Oh my god. I am fucking jealous! You-"

"-logical conclusion-"

"-like him more than me!"

"-because I know what he would say." Prime heard Roddi's argument and stared at him in surprise. "Roddi!" he berated gently with a smile.

"Pfff!" Rodimus cracked in laughter.

Optimus joined him but then his heart sank and he shook his head. "Roddi I'm so . . . so sorry!" the tears came back and the Senior Prime started to shift away but Rodimus rolled to his knees and caught him in his arms.

"Stop!" he begged softly. Rodimus rocked back and held his grieving friend close as Optimus repeated his name over and over.

They sat there a long time. Rodimus did not bother keeping track of time. Optimus fell asleep, apparently not concerned about the time, either. The day drifted back toward evening by the time Optimus roused from shutdown.

Rodimus had stolen a bit of rest himself and stirred when the Senior Prime attempt to sit up. Both of them moved slowly, their optics scoured the camp then the sky. They both tuned into communication frequencies. But Roddi was the only who contacted Blaster for updates.

Optimus stood and stretched his sensors. Roddi followed him a moment later. "Blaster says everything's good 'cept that Dan-o's been verbally abusive toward anyone who comes near him."

Optimus gazed at his partner. "Should we put him in isolation?"

"Will it shut him up?"

"Not likely but we won't have to deal with him for short while-unless you think it'll make matters worse."

Roddi frowned and shook his head. "Op, he's been abusive toward everyone. He can't-or won't- shut his mouth. He's gotten worse since he and Arcee broke up."

"Mm. Let's lock him up for a while, then, Roddi. There's enough crazies in camp. We don't need competition."

"Primus! Op, are you feeling alright? You just cracked a joke!"

Optimus gave him a sidelong glance and Roddi held up his hands in defense of the glare. "Heh, I know, I shouldn't push my luck."

Magnus' voice came from the top hatch behind them. "I will." the two Primes turned simultaneously, bearing the same expectant expression. Magnus tried to ignore the double scowl. "If you two leaders are done brooding, there's a few things we need to discuss."

**PT 11: EXODUS**

On board the Cold Refractor Optimus examined personnel reports while Rodimus glanced over the logistics report. They traded reports before Ultra Magnus set another report-field analysis-at the table.

"Well, this isn't happy," Roddi quipped. "How long have we been out of psy-neon diodes?"

"Two days."

"And the negative tri-sars?"

"A week."

"How low is our water supply, Ultra Magnus?" Optimus asked.

"We're using filtered stuff from the ground. But Dr. Zornoy says even with the filter systems, people are sick because it's loaded with foreign materials."

Rodimus rubbed his forehead. "It's not actually minerals. It's toxins. The desert here sits on the ruins of a vast city that once thrived here."

"I know," Optimus replied. "I was there once. But that was five meganiums ago. Anything radioactive should have long since dissipated."

Magnus took back a digipad. "It's not radioactivity that's tainted the water, Optimus. It's just the elements. The soil is salty. The underground streams are acidic. The air . . . well, you get the picture."

"Which brings us right back before our, uh, fight, Roddi. Someone must go back to Concentric City for supplies. We need liquid graphite for the landing gear on all ships. We need water and hydro-lithium. But I do not want to send anyone out who communicates on regular frequencies.

Magnus turned in his chair. "What about Ambience or Wavelength? Or maybe Blaster and the Cassettes?"

Optimus shook his head. "Any Autobot frequencies can easily be picked up by our enemies, Ultra Magnus."

Titanium, silent until now, swung toward the three of them, "The Decepticons already know we're here," he pointed.

Rodimus scratched a note onto his digipad, but did not look at the city commander. "Op is talking about the Quints and the Inoux."

"Right," Optimus agreed.

They sat quiet a moment. Gryph fingered a pointer in front of her. Titanium stared at nothing.

Magnus brightened. "Cyclonus and Galvatron communicate along Decepticon frequencies."

Roddi shook his head and did not brood over the mention of Galvatron's name. "They'd still have to contact us over the frequencies."

Strike back softly growled. "We could just send them to town and _leave_ them, you know."

Both Primes answered him simultaneously: "Not now, Strike Back."

He also earned a glare from Ultra Magnus.

Optimus leaned toward the Major-General, "where are Galvatron and Cyclonus?"

Magnus looked suspiciously guilty. "Uh . . ."

It was not difficult locating Galvatron. He behaved himself by sitting against the Gabriel Genesis. He greeted Optimus with a lift of a ration of energon.

Optimus squatted next to him as Roddi followed at a more leisurely pace. To the right, the north field stretched, welcoming the playful skirmish between three Dinobots, Cyclonus, Colt, Repugnus, Doublecross and Bumblebee.

A sharp, shrill whistle forced all the Autobots to freeze in their tracks and a girl's voice called over the comlines.

"Repugnus!" Rusti called, "foul on the fourth! No swear words in front of Swoop!"

Galvatron grinned like a masochist. "We are learning the finer points of Dinobot football."

Prime and Rodimus looked from Galvatron to Rusti to Repugnus who also grinned, displaying nasty jagged teeth.

Even though he knew Repugnus was capable of handling things if the situation got out of control, Rodimus was still not exactly delighted that Galvatron and Cyclonus were outside the camp and around Rusti. "You've been here all this time?" Roddi surprised himself because his voice sounded calm.

Galvatron shook his head. "I'm on an official time-out for elbowing Doublecross outside the thirty-five yard line."

Rodimus crossed his arms. "Don't you mean _inside_; with more than just an elbow? I'm surprised you didn't just haul out your gun and shoot her into submission, Galvatron."

"What would be the point of that? Besides, Slag was coming at me even though it was Bumblebee who had the ball." Galvatron flinched when Rusti shouted over the comlines. She called Repugnus out on another foul.

Optimus and Rodimus heard it over the lines, too and watched, bewildered as Repugnus joined Galvatron at the 'bench', giggling and snorting. "Got 'em at the hot pass on the two-forty."

Galvatron _giggled_ and the two high-fived.

Rodimus interjected, "am I missing something here?"

"No," Optimus followed, "I'm missing it, too."

Repugnus shifted from monster to robot form. "Too late in the game to add you guys. 'Sides, you've got an unfair advantage."

Galvatron turned to him. "They do?"

"Sure. They make better _wall flowers_ then Dinobots."

"Hah! Truth never spoken better! You should have seen the wanted poster we found of Prime. Nice mug shot."

"No kidding? Photograph or drawing?"

"Hey!" Roddi called. He pointed at Galvatron. "You know, you're not EVEN supposed to be out of your cage. It was already agreed that you and Mr. Spock aren't to be out except on a leash, Laughing Boy."

Pugnus looked puzzled, gazing from Roddi to Galvatron. "'Laughing Boy'?"

Galvatron cast him a wry smile. "We're working on Roddi's vocabulary but it's a long and difficult process."

Rodimus moved toward the Decepticon: "Hey!" but Optimus held him back.

"He's not hurting anything, Roddi-"

"My life's _reputation_ is at stake here and I will not let this Howdy-Doody reincarnate go around cracking bad jokes; that's _my_ job."

"Which is why mine are better," Galvatron added smoothly.

"You're both amateurs." Repugnus capped.

Galvatron turned to him. "Do you offer lessons?"

"Hadn't thought of it."

"Stop it!" Optimus and Roddi chorused.

Galvatron grinned.

Rodimus calmed. "Alright." he turned to Prime. "This is _entirely_ your _fault_. Not Mags' and not Repugnus . . . es . .. _Yours_. Fix it or someone's head will fly-and it _won't_ be Galvatron's-at the start."

"He is not doing anything wrong-"

"We went over this point before. I will NOT be upstaged by an upstart. I will not have a Decepticon running around like a stray."

Optimus looked at Repugnus and the Monsterbot caught a familiar gleam in the Senior Prime's optic. He knew _that_ look and the Monsterbot squirmed.

"Roddi, we could just turn Galvatron and Cyclonus to Repugnus' custody-"

"Uh-uh," Repugnus objected.

"**NO!"** Roddi said at the same time.

"I do Dinobots," Repugnus added, "Not conny-boys." he turned to Galvatron. "No offense. You're just not my species-type."

Something small but hard struck Roddi's forearm then Optimus' shoulder. Turning in the direction of the projectiles, they watched as Rusti stomped toward them, peeling off her helmet. Her bound red hair hung limp, drenched in sweat.

She looked somewhat pissed.

"What are you doing?" her voice came direct and hard, irresistible to answer.

Galvatron opened his mouth: "they're here to debate who gets to date me."

She turned to him, eyes vivid blue. "Galvatron."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Not another word. You're on a time-out."

Repugnus protruded his lower lip. "Ooh. Tisk, tisk."

Roddi and Optimus stared, dumbfounded.

Rusti punctuated her demand by setting her fists on hips. "Well?"

Roddi: "uhh . . . uh, I was just wondering how come those two are so willing to obey you when neither of them will do what _we_ tell them to do. I don't get-"

"Roddi!" Rusti growled between her teeth, "You're _evading_ the question!"

Optimus half turned toward Rodimus and laid a hand on his vyrestix's shoulder. He was about to speak when Rusti simply blew.

"Optimus! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF! RODIMUS, NOT ANOTHER WORD OUT OF YOU! YOU TWO ARE **NOT** ALLOWED TO HAVE ONE MORE ARGUMENT! IS THAT **CLEAR**?!"

Roddi looked to Optimus "I don't think I've ever seen her so spitting mad before."

Optimus was baffled by the change of eye color on the girl. It concerned him. "Rusti, we-Roddi and I were-ah-discussing what to do about Galvatron and Cyclonus."

She stopped yelling, but the young woman's voice kept the acidic snarl: "you _weren't dis_CUSSING it. You were headed for another goddamned _fight_ and I'm SICK of you two _fighting!_"

Her voice changed just enough to send surges down the two Primes' central infastructural rod.

Rusti replaced her helmet. "From here forward _I'm_ their chaperon. THAT is NOT open to discussion!"

She pivoted her foot, turned about face and began marching back to the players.

Optimus and Rodimus stared after her, wordless and vacant of expression.

Roddi recovered first. "I-I don't think that was entirely _her_ that was talking."

"I don't think so, either." Optimus concurred.

"In fact," Roddi continued, "I don't think it was her that was even _angry_."

"I don't think so, either."

Rodimus flinched, "Op! Rusti doesn't communicate on the Autobot frequency! I don't know why I didn't think of it before!"

They looked at one another and Optimus took it upon himself to call her back.

Rusti watched as Crossy slammed into Slag and all but ran him over when Optimus called. Crossy shifted from robot to Monster mode and flew for the finish line but Swoop angled down, grabbed her about the necks and tugged.

The two fliers crashed into hard-baked dirt leaving a short trench behind. Rusti called time-out at the fifteen yard-line. "Sludge, scrape Bumblebee off the ground, will you? I'll be right back." she returned to the central sidelines and glanced at Galvatron and Repugnus. "You guys can go back once the left side gets the ball."

"That'll be a while," Galvatron grunted.

"They're still trying to figure out who the ball is," Repugnus added.

Rusti ignored him, immune to such bad cracks. She removed her helmet once again, her mood now lighter, her eyes grey again. "I'm sorry," she said without preamble, "You guys cannot play until the next game.

"Rusti," Optimus started, "we were wondering if you'd run a short errand for us."

"We need you to go shopping again," Roddi added.

She glanced from Prime to Prime. "Uh ..."

Optimus reiterated: "you're the only one who can communicate to us without using Autobot frequencies."

Rodimus vigorously nodded.

Rusti blinked. "Guys, why are you sending me? I speak only three languages: Autobot, American English and foul language. Besides, to the natives, I'd look pretty funny. And I don't know my way around the city."

"Cyclonus, Titanium and Bumblebee will go with you," Optimus had not asked any of them, but he knew all three would be willing to go.

Rusti mulled it over. She was uncomfortable with the idea of going to an alien city. But she also took into account that Roddi and Optimus were right: she could communicate in a way that would keep other ears from listening in.

"Umm . . . okay," she agreed.

Rusti had only seen Titanium on occasion. Usually the city commander kept along the lines of heavy duty work and weapons repair; jobs done through the course of the night shift when tools and vehicles required maintenance. Too add to that, Rusti had seen Titanium only in robot mode. At the moment, the huge city commander, who topped Ultra Magnus by a good two feet, pounded the ground in an alien animal mode next to Bumblebee while Cyclonus hovered above them.

Rusti could not keep her eyes off Titanium's animal form. He looked like some crazy fictional beast, part buffalo, part dinosaur with a heavy shell covering his back and horns that wrapped about his head on three sides. Rusti imagined a rhinoceros would be terrified of Titanium.

She peeled her eyes off Fort Sagittarius' commander and gave the shopping list another once-over. Liquid graphite, negative trisars (with one percent texide.) And beta-zinc strips with no aluminum. Rodimus was pretty specific on the strips.

"Bumblebee," the girl glanced from the pocket digipad to the dashboard, "what's with the strips? What the heck are they used for?"

"Uh, I dunno, Rusti. Lemme ask Titanium."

The Bee fell silent for a moment then came back with "Nope, Tite says he doesn't know, either."

"What about Cyclonus?"

"What about him?"

Rusti smiled in surprise," ask him if he knows."

"Uhh . . ."

"You're not afraid of him are you?" "Rusti tried not to laugh.

No response.

Rusti let slip a short laugh. "Okay. Patch me though. I'll ask him."

"For the ships." Cyclonus' cold, deep voice came through Bumblebee's comlink. "Beta-zinc controls chronological components between navigation and central alpha warp drives."

Six hours later, they landed not far from the centralized hospitalities of Concentric city. Rusti stepped from Bumblebee just before the Autobot transformed and scanned the city. Cyclonus landed so quietly Rusti almost did not hear him. Stealth mode? Or was Cyclonus just that good?

"What's on the list?" Cyclonus cast his gaze on the right, seeking road signs and pathways. He thought it a foolish ploy for Prime to dawdle in Concentric City but thinking on it now, Cyclonus was grateful; he pretty much knew his way around. They had very little time. At this moment, the Autobots were busy breaking camp, preparing to leave Cratis.

"Liquid graphite." Rusti announced. "I don't suppose there's a Radio Shack on Cratis, is there?"

Titanium glanced over his shoulder. "Of course! Right over there!"

The girl, the Decepticon and Bumblebee looked from Titanium to the large store. While the language in which the store's name was written was alien, the colors, displays and brand name were all the same.

Rusti blinked, completely baffled.

Cyclonus broke the moment and pointed northward toward a collection of sky scrapers. Street advertisements, flashing lights and blinking words declared goods and services in three different languages. "Most electronics and service and repair shops Galvatron, Optimus Prime and I attended lie at the north end of town. I suggest we start there."

Rusti advanced across the street, binding her hair. Traffic stopped for her but honked at Bumblebee when he crossed. Cyclonus glared so that even cars, several blocks away, paused in their tracks.

The extent of alien life forms astounded Rusti until she realized that not one building or sign around her was scripted in English. She stopped walking and took a better look. She now felt like a small child, lost in a very big place. "I am completely out of my element," she said to herself.

"This way," Cyclonus took a right and down the row of specialty shops, boutiques and cafes.

They passed a book shop, a winery, a furniture story, an insurance agency and a beauty salon before encountering an old, abandoned shop next to which stood a locksmith.

Cyclonus paused, "I'll remain here to keep an optic on the streets."

Titanium glared. "Don't try pulling any fast ones, Decepticon. You're still under scrutiny."

Rusti intervened, "Hey! Someone's gonna have to speak to . . . whatever owns the shop. And Cyclonus is right, we need someone else to watch our backs."

Bumblebee had to turn away to conceal a smirk while Titanium shifted his glare from the Decepticon to his 'nanny'. He reluctantly pushed the door and stepped into the shop. Rusti followed with a shake of her head, wondering why she had been so bossy lately.

The alien shop owner was not as bizarre looking as Rusti expected. 'She' was heavy-set. Her welcoming smile displayed two rows of metal teeth. Her violet eyes blinked behind a set of thick glasses. Brown hair twisted up atop her head in a fluffy crown and a nice denim shirt offset her red-brown skin.

Keys and locks dangled from wall and shelf in every inch of the shop. Three different machines squatted against the back wall while other shelves stood burdened with boxes, tubes and casings. The smell of metal and oil hung in the air.

Rusti liked the smell. Her eyes darted this way, that while Titanium tried to speak with the shop owner.

Rusti paid them little to no attention. She knew she was along only as the communications link and knew it was better to leave things to the Autobot commander. As Titanium chattered on, Rusti drifted through the shop, spying on different objects and items, careful as not to touch anything. She felt like a toddler and could not hold her head back far enough to see items on several very high shelves.

She encountered one shelf lined with objects dangling from hooks. Most of them hung vertically. Others objects squatted and as she passed them, they turned toward her.

Rusti froze, turned left and gave the objects a closer exam.

They did not move.

She tilted her head. "Come on," she beckoned. "I know you're alive."

Titanium and Bumblebee and the shop keeper burst into laughter and the shop owner's voice boomed with excitement. Rusti figured she was telling a story.

The girl lifted a finger and lined the smooth surface on one metal object.

It jiggled as though ticklish.

Rusti looked at it very closely so that she saw the reflection of her own eyes upon its silvery surface. She mentally tried to reach for it, not taking notice how her eyes shifted toward blue again.

"What's your name?" she asked in a hoarse whisper. "Don't be afraid, Little One." Rusti stared until the object's surface folded out, forming an alien face. Usually this would have caused her to startle, but Rusti felt nothing but fascination and familiarity.

"I am minute. We travel to help."

"Yes," Rusti's voice dipped with a slight echo. "I sense your signature. But you are not children of Vector Sigma, not of Primus."

"We are of Vector Theta."

"I see."

"You speak of Vector Sigma, the Younger."

"Yes," Rusti answered. "She knew and she did not. "If you please," she continued as politely as possible, "were there others? Is there only the brothers?"

"Primacron sold several Vectors prior to his encounter with the Filthy One of Abomination. And whence came you, One of Life?"

Rusti heard Bumblebee call for her. But she could not break the communication. "I was from a Garden."

"Ah! Garden of the Kings, mayhaps?"

"I actually do not recall. I was sent and I came to a world of metal and breathed upon the life forms appointed to me.

Spidery-thin legs threaded out the lines of a slim dark shadow along the shelf support struts. Rusti narrowed her eyes, angry.

The alien AI object sighed. "Yes, we've been aware of the Faceless Darkness for many nights, now."

"Then I ask your forgiveness, Minute. Part of me is infected." Rusti slowly reached for a nearby hammer as a tiny version of Void stalked the shelves like a cat hunting for prey.

Unfortunately, it spotted her as she picked up the hammer. Rusti tightened her grip on the tool as the mini Virus bravely came to the edge of the shelf.

"THHHHH. THHHH." it hissed like a snake.

"You are not supposed to be here," the young lady growled with a voice again not quite her own.

"She's right," Minute agreed. "You'd best depart. Find someone's computer to nibble on."

Void tapped around the alien robotic tool and rubbed its face against Minute's stationary form.

"Stop it!" Rusti whispered harshly. She did not want to cause a panic.

"SSSS . . . SSSUUUNNN. THHHH. I THAT VOID AND DESOLATE. VOID. DESOLATE." The miniature Virus bared its teeth at Rusti.

She did not think twice. The hammer came down and Mini Void crunched under the impact; its center popped like a ripe zit.

Rusti jumped back and dropped the contaminated hammer. "Eewe!" she instantly searched her person for nasty Void bits. She found nothing and rechecked her hands.

Clean.

"Wow!" Minute cringed at the Virus' remains. "That's one alien creature I've never seen."

"It's a Virus. I am partly infected."

"Oh, that is sad. I am sorry. Can your keepers do nothing?"

"No. They suffer." Rusti watched as black blood dripped from shelf to floor. She winced when Void's long squared tail snaked up in protest of her deed.

"Rusti?" Bumblebee's voice called from the front of the store. "Is everything okay there?"

"Uh, yeah." she called back. She eyed Minute and the robotic AI tool winked at her. "Um, I just smashed a really nasty brain-sucking cockroach."

They shopped three other places then discovered a warehouse crammed with everything they needed. A family of Bionoids, attracted to Cyclonus, offered him gifts and repeatedly told him how honored they were of his visit. Titanium tried to ignore it, searching for hydro-lithium fluids and psi-neon diodes with lithium carbide stems.

Rusti gazed at the row of brightly lit monitors offering virtual-reality games. Headsets dangled above her begging for attention. Two monitors over a trio of alien males competed at a car race. A streak of mischief hit the girl and she stepped behind, watching the road and each of their three-dimensional cars. Every now and again the cars passed a road sign or a bird would fly overhead.

One of the taller alien boys chattered excitedly, even vocalized a sense of bossiness. The little one whined, perhaps because the other two were better at the game than he.

Then the taller alien dropped a bomb from his virtual car and blew apart the little guy.

The little alien 'boy' squeaked in horror then cried. He verbalized his unhappiness and the Taller laughed and jeered.

Rusti rolled her eyes. Bullies seemed to be a commonality in the universe. The two older 'boys' continued the game without the little one. She contacted the little one's eyes and wished she could tell him to keep watching. Instead, she attended the video game as the 'boys' now turned to a windy road and another stupid bird flew into the background. Rusti stared at the bird, marking its colors, then the lines then the pixels.

Easy access. And since the players busied themselves with the road, they did not notice the bird above froze. Rusti enlarged it and made it 'grow' fangs from its beak.

She made it even better by plastering a Decepticon symbol on it. That's fun.

Now the aliens' cars traveled along a dirt road. Every so often a road sign popped up.

Rusti waited just at the right moment and the cars were forced to stand still for a mass transit vehicle crossing their path. She made the bird swoop down and leave nasty droppings on both cars.

The two boys gaped, amazed.

The Little One also voiced approval and Rusti caught his eyes gain. She winked at him while the bird droppings ate into the cars like acid, even smoldering.

The mass transit passed and the two cars zipped along the road.

A road sign appeared again. It sprouted eyes, fangs and claws and attacked one car, tearing it to shreds. Then it turned to the screen and tried to claw the players.

The boys cried and dashed out the store.

The Little One peeped at Rusti.

"Sorry, fella," she answered. "I'm not from around here." she turned around and almost smacked into Cyclonus's leg. "Whoa! How do you do that? I always know when the Autobots are around-"

I was about to ask you the same question," Cyclonus stared at the game now frozen and waiting for a new player.

"What, that?" Rusti thumbed toward the consol. "Pfff. Just goofing off."

"Hm hmm." he agreed.

A slender black shape appeared from their right and slipped out of sight.

Chills shot down Rusti's spine and she tapped the floor as quickly and quietly as she could, peering round the corner.

Nothing.

She looked to Cyclonus whose optics scoured their surroundings. "Did you -you didn't just see-"

"Hush."

She realized he was using more than optical sensors. She watched the somber Decepticon until he frowned. Rusti did not think they were just 'seeing things', not both of them. But if Cyclonus chose not to discuss it just yet, she'd keep her mouth shut, too. No sense in calling a false alarm.

They visited an ancient shop filled floor to ceiling with vials, jars and crystals of every shape and size possible. Powders, liquids, solids-even living and dead insects crowded shelving space. Rusti even found a vial stuffed with eyeballs. Cyclonus spoke to a two-headed masculine individual that flickered two black tongues. A set of mean ram's horns curled round the merchant's thick, boney ears.

"What's this place?" Rusti quietly asked Bumblebee.

"I'd guess it's a supplement shop. Didn't you say two items on the list was Cybertonium and gallum?"

"Ummmm, You mean they're Transformer . . . vitamins?"

Titanium passed them in two long strides. "Something of that nature." he came to the front counter while the ram-horned shop keeper gave Cyclonus some sort of dissertation. Cyclonus turned to his Autobot counterpart. "He has what we need in quantities we're asking for."

"Good. That's good." Titanium answered a bit coldly. "What about selenium?"

"He has it, but not enough."

Titanium shrugged. "Take what he has. Let's get out of here. I thought I spotted something down the street just now."

They left the shop and loaded the 'groceries' into Titanium's subspace pockets. He snarled and snorted at by passers as Bumblebee transformed and opened the door for Rusti. Rusti did not notice, however. The world fell dark before her eyes. She glanced skyscraper to building. Bumblebee said something, but she could not acknowledge him. She felt two types of dark. The world shifted to the night and distantly the girl heard Void hiss. Not at her, however. Rusti's heart raced.

She reached for Optimus and Roddi: [[_The lights are going out_.]] People moved slowly. One alien with a hairless cranium glanced in her direction. He 'knew' but the matter did not concern him. The sound of traffic lessened.

[[_Tell them to head back to camp now, Rusti._]] Roddi came back.

Rusti batted her eyes and startled again when Bumblebee's face appeared too close to hers.

"Are you okay? You're not saying anything."

She would have answered The Bee but her eyes glued fixedly to the side of a department store across the street. Attempting to say something, the young woman caught air at the back of her throat and turned pale.

Bumblebee followed her gaze. "What on Primus' mind is THAT??"

Cyclonus and Titanium followed Rusti's stare simultaneously. Creeping alongside the six-story department store a black Destroy Class Inoux perched. It examined a group of aliens huddled together, among them stood two Bionoids and an Ag Al Arnoth.

Cyclonus shooed his companions against the wall and looked to Titanium. "Take the girl. Return to camp. The small one and I will divert the Inoux's attention."

"Hey!" Bumblebee objected, "I'm not _that_ small!"

Titanium stared at the Destroyer. The city commander was too big to transform there on the sidewalk without causing a distraction. He dashed onto the street amid traffic, causing two vehicles to screech in their path. He shifted and looked at the girl. "Do NOT waste time!"

There wasn't any time to waste-or to use. Two Destroyer Class Inoux leapt from atop the building above. They landed between Titanium and the other three. With incredible reflexes, Cyclonus shot at it three times before casting his optics on Bumblebee.

"Go!"

Bumblebee transformed and was about to call for Rusti when a tall, lethal Assassin Class landed between Bumblebee, Cyclonus and Rusti.

The girl screamed and ducked when the Assassin shot at her, leaving a smouldering crater in the sidewalk.

Cyclonus gave it a roundhouse kick but the Inoux caught his swing and flipped the Decepticon clear into blocked traffic. The Destroyer squealed in a sort of battle cry and spat out a stream of acid. Cyclonus, Titanium and three vehicle owners abandoned the spot aimed just as the acid made contact, burning blacktop metal and plastic. Horrible fumes smogged the street.

Cyclonus and Titanium found themselves face to face. "You _must_ get back to the Autobots." Cyclonus insisted. "They need the supplies."

"What about you? Bumblebee? The girl?"

"I will handle it. Go!"

The Assassin tackled Cyclonus and tried to slice him along the side. Cyclonus elbowed the Inoux and caught the creature's head in the crook of his arm. Cyclonus pulled with all he was worth, hoping to snap the Inoux's head.

The first Destroyer leapt from the cross street. In two bounds, it was in front of Bumblebee.

"Duck!" Rusti screamed with all her might.

Bumblebee did so just as the deadly pincers snapped out from nowhere, colliding in a terrible clang. The Destroyer butt its faceless head against The Bee. Bumblebee soared down the street. He bounced off the roof of one vehicle, rolled off the flat bed of a nearby truck then dropped onto asphalt.

Titanium broke into a hard run and scooped Bumblebee with his horns. He dodged an oncoming Destroyer Class and two large trucks.

"What about Cyclonus and Rusti?" Bumblebee called clinging to Titanium for all his worth.

"We will have to trust the Decepticon to his word."

The same Destroyer who kicked Bumblebee down the street inched toward Rusti, snapping in a language she could not guess.

Trembling, the girl forced herself to stand. The destroyer opened its pincers then charged for her. Rusti waited, hoping the Inoux would open its mouth.

Gleaming silver teeth unclasped from a maw as it spread like a shark for prey. Rusti held her breath, pointed her finger and sent a powerful bolt of energy into the monster's throat. But it was not enough. The very next minute, Rusti was jumbled, twisted, turned upside down and finally settled in a seat in Cyclonus' jet mode. She stared at the city through a tinted front shield. Rusti squealed as a safety harness secured her to the seat.

"Wha-what's . . . ohmigod."

She saw three flying Inoux headed straight for them.

"Hold tightly."

Cyclonus dipped in a cold drop and tipped his wing so that the wing ran between automobiles stuck in the traffic jam.

Rusti turned pallid.

They flew right under the oncoming Inoux and shot up. But the Inoux would not surrender their kill so easily. They flipped upside down and pressed after the Decepticon flier.

"How did they find us?" Rusti cringed when Cyclonus dived again and she swallowed an air bubble.

"The Inoux are not limited to a single location. And chances are we have been ratted out by Swindle or Decetron."

"Who?" Rusti did not get her answer. She held her breath when Cyclonus pulled a tight loop and came behind the Inoux fliers. He shot one and flew through the explosion as the Inoux flier crashed into a nearby building.

"LOOK OUT!" Rusti cried. Two other fliers fired at the Decepticon. Cyclonus cut his engines and dropped like a rock.

Rusti lost her stomach back on the town's surface. Cyclonus found an entryway into Concentric city's underground realm. They narrowly slipped between two great barges and a giant mechanoid as it wiped and polished the side of one ship.

The Inoux, nearly as fast as Cyclonus, would not let up. They barreled after, rolling to avoid one incident, ducking to doge another.

Rusti could not make up her mind if she wanted to shut her eyes or watch the world zip by like a mad dream passing in ultra-fast-forward. "Why don't we head back to camp?"

Cyclonus dropped, touched the water under them then abruptly lifted again to avoid fire. "Negative. It would lead the Inoux to them."

"But you can't fly like this forever!" she squealed and slammed her eyes tight when Cyclonus looped up, tilted to the right and passed between two underground buildings.

Cyclonus shot up again, twisted twice on the up-swing then dropped again, this time surprising the Inoux fliers from the right and shot both through the neck.

"YES!" Rusti rejoiced.

"Do not celebrate. There are six others above us."

Rusti tangled fingers through her curly hair and tried to hold back tears.

Cyclonus slowly, quietly landed on the underground river and cut power.

"What are you doing?"

"Sh!"

She repeated in a whisper: "What are you doing?"

"Cat and mouse." Cyclonus' voice came low and quiet. Rusti understood and relaxed. They would be there for a while.

Rusti dozed after twenty minutes of dead silence. The sudden rush of adrenaline and the cool, clean atmosphere inside Cyclonus lulled her into a crash. For a while she thought she swam in a comfortable darkness. Then her mind shut down entirely.

A soft glow and a quiet whine of an engine starting roused the girl from an uncomfortable sleep. Rusti drew a deep breath and yawned as quietly as she dared.

"Sit tightly."

Cyclonus shot off like a snapped rubber band. Rusti had no idea anything could take off so fast. She was pushed into her seat, unable to so much as move her arms up. The Decepticon jet raced along river's darkness and blew out the entryway, dragging a wash of water behind him. In a clean forty-five degree angle, Cyclonus flew straight out of Concentric City's limits and was five miles into the atmosphere before scanners alarmed him to unwanted tail-gaiters

"They're more patient than I thought."

"Does this mean we're going back?" Rusti spotted an Inoux flier rising from the starboard.

"No." Cyclonus left a hot trail as he approached greater altitudes in a matter of seconds. He trimmed his wings back, cut off unnecessary functions and shot off-planet.

Rusti thought she'd hyperventilate until her host flooded the compartment with more oxygen. Her head cleared but Rusti decided she was not going to go shopping ever again. Flashing bright light blinded her before Rusti realized Cyclonus just fired weapons.

The Decepticon grunted and electricity played across his screen. Two Inoux fliers came straight for them, their mouths wide open, throats alight with plasma energy.

Rusti could not breathe. "Aren't we going to get out of here?"

Pause.

"Cyclonus?"

No answer.

"Cyclonus!" she hit the unmarked dash.

A clicking, snapping sound filled the cockpit and Rusti winced when a flat, monotone voice filtered across the Autobot communication frequencies. "Surrender. Quick unpained death to you. Inoux grant not second warning."

They were hit and alone in space.


	11. Signal to Noise

DSR CH 11

**A/N:** This will be a quieter chapter. Events take place on different Autobot ships. The writer will attempt to keep the situation-and the dialog-as clear as possible. To do this, it was necessary to break up events according to each ship. The story will jump around a little because several things happen at the same time. Sorry for any confusion. And for the sensitive: some extreme language.

CHAPTER 11

Signal to Noise

The sun shines behind me

I press toward the darkened clouds

Rain falls clean and free.

That's where I want to be.

I walk from a throne of glory,

I desert a crown of bloodshed

I walk from optics burning with desire

And I move toward redemption.

I am small. yes, very small.

I am a pitiful thing who once believed himself a god.

I am not.

I walk from the twisted glory of death

I leave behind a cult of destruction

I seek the clean sweet rain:

the promise of happiness beyond my inept imagination.

I did not deserve it. I could not work for it.

But it was there and I accepted it because it was free.

Redemption was free for me

like the falling rain.

like the sweet soft breeze.

like the colorful dancing leaves.

I don't need a crown of blood

I do not desire sacrifice

I do not crave the innocuous respect of murderers.

I just want redemption.

-Galvatron

"Nothing good comes of dabbling with Decepticons. Zip-lock my word, we're headed for serious trouble."

Strike Back tightened the last bolt to the landing gear under the Lady Razor. Pong stood by with the tensioner. Last minute prep, ordered by Ultra Magnus, meant examining each ship top to bottom while Titanium and Cyclonus left for remaining supplies. Magnus ordered all ships ready in a second's notice for take-off.

That meant those who came to Cratis on the Sagittarian Mozart or the Gabriel Genesis already had their ships ready for take-off and battle. Magnus assigned the same prep crew to other ships throughout the camp to 'enliven' the slackers.

"As if we weren't capable of doing it ourselves!" Strike Back sneered. "_Gosh, Major-General, I need a babysitter. Will you sit on me?"_

Pong sent his nervous glance on alert in case Strike Back said too much, too loudly. "I'm sure Ultra Magnus means well," Pong defended. "After all, he's following orders, too."

"Orders?" Strike Back challenged as he climbed off the ship's footgear. "Whose orders, Pong? Hu?"

"W-well-"

"Oh! You're saying that maybe Rodimus or Optimus said something to Magnus? No. No. Wrong, Pong. You are such an ignoramus!"

Pong's optics skittered like a frightened mouse.

Strike Back frowned, annoyed. "Look, everything that comes from Optimus or Rodimus Prime ultimately comes straight from the Quintessons, okay? Everything we are going through, everything we do is being monitored by our superiors because ultimately, the Quintessons are the ones in control. You didn't know that, did you? Know why?" Pong shook his head. "Cuz you're not supposed to know." Strike Back scoffed. "Come on. Let's check this thing."

The former city commander stomped off, leaving Pong to gather tools and equipment. Strike Back glanced over his shoulder. "What's with you? Got gunk in your gears? Move it, soldier!"

Pong managed, with a little grace, to pick up everything and trot along. He kept up a genuine attitude, smiling like a puppy dog. Strike Back rewarded him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Pong, you're a good mech and it makes me sad to knowing that you're having to live in ignorance, serving a hierarchy who pay little to no heed to your true talents, you know?"

Pong half-laughed. "Oh, well, I'm just one of the little guys, sir."

"But you mean a great deal to _me_." Strike Back took one of the heavier cases of tools. "After all, Pong, I, like you, am a Paratron. We may have lost our precious identity by folding in with the Autobots. But there are a few of us who still cling to the ways of our homeworld. There are many of us who secretly renounce the tyranny enforced by the Primes. And it grieves all of us that now the Primes have fallen to ally themselves with the Decepticons. But, yet, we are so few. Voiceless. And for the most part, powerless."

Pong gibbed: "y-you mean there's other people who aren't happy with the Primes?"

"Aren't _you_ happy with the Primes?" Strike Back challenged.

"W-well, no. But that doesn't mean I'm _always_ unhappy. I mean, they're not really mean. It's just that, sometimes I feel like just another cog. I-I sometimes like to pretend that I'm really important, like an Aerialbot or a Protectobot. You know. Something more than just maintenance."

Strike Back nodded. "I know maintenance seems pretty low on the whole scale of things, doesn't it?"

Pong merely nodded and adjusted the burden over his shoulder struts and back.

"You know, Pong, maybe you'd like to come sit with me and some of my friends sometime. We can chit-chat over a bit of light oil and remember our life on our lost homeworld. Sing some of the songs you and I recall from dear Paratron."

"Will you tell me more of the Quintesson's conspiracy?"

"Of course! Everyone in the group knows about it. But keep a low profile. This is stuff we're not supposed to know."

Pong nodded hard and the two stepped into the ship to test the landing gear.

Rodimus sat in the command chair onboard the Cold Refractor. Two femmes worked fervently to repair the view screen. Prime's head rested on his hand while the ladies quietly worked. Blaster gave them directions and the process crawled along.

Rodimus was sick and tired of dealing with one repair or another. He swung his feet over the right arm of the chair and dipped back on the left arm so that his optics met the soft ceiling light. "This is fabulous," he said to no one. "All I need is a deck of cards, someone calling to complain about Daniel and a Dinobot to blow a fuse. Life is wonderful!" opening an internal channel, he contacted Optimus. "Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there... _now?_"

"No."

"Can we be there... _tomorrow?_"

Optimus signed off the latest check on weapons supplies. "No, Rodimus."

"How about I keep whining about it? Will that motivate everyone to expediently find ways to get us off this rock?"

"Roddi?" Op's voice softened so that it made Rodimus grin. He was pushing buttons out of boredom.

"Yes?"

"Don't make me find something for you to do."

Rodimus giggled and distracted the femmes. They gazed over their shoulders as Prime spun about in his chair."Op's gonna give me something to do!" he declared blithely. "What joy!"

"You can help Ultra Magnus track the saboteur." Optimus added.

Rodimus moaned and covered his face. "Paperwork. _Naturally_ you'd give me paperwork. You really and for real hate me, don'tchya, Op? I'm sitting here like a filament on a disk, waiting for the view screen to align with the ship's force fields and all you can offer me is _paperwork_."

Optimus did not respond right away. Rodimus ticked the seconds off: five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. "Uh, Optimus?"

The Senior Prime sighed and Rodimus felt the simmering anger in the exasperated expression. "Rodimus, it's Daniel. Again. Do you want to handle it? Because I've lost my patience."

Optimus _growled-_yes, _growled._

Roddi sat up. "Where is he?"

"On the Sunset Kummya."

"Yeah. I'll handle it."

"Thank you."

Whatever it was this time must have really pissed Optimus off. Rodimus tried to decide what approach to take. He could choose to be angry but anger didn't fit his present mood. He was bored. So... _sarcasm_ was in order. Besides, Prime told himself, sarcasm was always a more cruel and unusual way of dealing with people like Daniel.

And Daniel loathed Rodimus' mind games.

Rodimus boarded the Kummya in automode, passing the entry at a reasonable speed. He tapped into the ship's main computer to locate the raving lunatic and found a long list of complaints reported to two separate EDC officers: Witwicky attempted assault. Witwicky threatened use of a weapon. Witwicky assaulted with verbal abuse. Witwicky exhibited unreasonable aggression... Blah, blah, blah.

Rodimus transformed and greeted Blades and Drox at the brig. "Well!" Prime greeted sarcastically, "I see you two have been given the privilege of guard duty."

Drox frowned. "He's not the model prisoner I'd consider rehabilitated, Sir."

"Take the night off, Drox. Blades and I can take it from here."

"Aye, Sir."

Drox departed and Blades accessed the door to a four-cell chamber. Daniel sat in cell Number Two, his back against the far wall, knees up, a frown on his unshaven mug. Shredded bedding, spilt food and drink and shattered electronic equipment trashed his cell.

"Wow," Rodimus observed. "You're in here all by yourself?"

"Noticed that, did you?" Daniel coldly returned.

"Yeah. I think they call it 'solitary confinement." Rodimus folded his arms and gazed about the brig as though inspecting it for purchase.

"Oh. That's what it is. Huh. I thought they put me in here cuz Optimus kiss-My-Ass forgot to pay the cable bill."

"Oh yeah?" Roddi echoed. "Oh, I get it; cheap entertainment. Yes, Daniel, that you certainly are."

Daniel flipped him the bird. Immune to such immature gestures, Rodimus shrugged and glanced at Blades who solemnly shook his head. "Well, I have no idea why they called for me. You're pretty much contained."

"CONTAINED?" Daniel exploded. He stood so fast, Rodimus was almost impressed. "You fuckheads think you have all the GODDAMN ANSWERS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH? I'VE BEEN PISSING **SHOT**!"

Daniel ripped the sheets and blankets off his bed and tore up the pillow. He kicked an upturned food tray and made a football of his water cup. It struck the energy bars and sizzled before dropping to a smoldering husk.

"Yeah," Rodimus replied, unamused. I recall that. I'll bet you woke with a migraine from the Pitt."

"My urine is _green._ Do you know _why_ it's _green_?"

"T.M.I., Daniel."

"Let me clue you in, Rodimus Slime. The meds they gave me weren't meant for Humans. So it _dyed my kidneys_!"

"'magine that."

"WHAT IS THE **MATTER** WITH YOU PEOPLE? HOW COULD YOU ALLOW A DECEPTICON LOOSE IN THE FUCKING CAMP?"

"You know, Dan-o, if you keep screaming like that you'll either develop laryngitis-which I can only hope for-or you'll inflict brain damage-Oh, wait! Heh, you're already brain damaged! What was I thinking? Oh, um, I was considering ordering someone to tranquilize you then put you on a regimen of anti-inflammatories for your head. Oh, wait. Strike that. You need bi-polar medication. You... are bi-polar, aren't you? Or is it scitzo?"

Daniel undid the front of his exosuit and urinated in front of the Autobots.

Blades leaned slightly toward Rodimus. "Is it customary for bi-polars to do stuff like that?"

"Y'know," Rodimus answered. "I'm not an expert in that field. My guess is that he's retrogressed in the whole... age-mentality thing. Stay here a moment or two with him, would ya?"

Blades balked. "What? By myself?"

"Don't worry," Rodimus answered smoothly. "If he breaks out of his cage, I'll see to it Groove gets your rock collection."

Blades did not find that amusing. Daniel screamed as Rodimus left. He threw everything at the energon bars until there was nothing else in his cell except smeared food, urine on the floor and his bed, bolted to the wall and floor.

"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" Witwicky demanded.

Blades shook his head. "I have no idea. But it's nothing sane."

Daniel froze and stared at the Protectobot then quietly laughed. You think I'm nuts?"

"Aren't you?"

"What makes you think I'm nuts?"

"Your irrational behavior."

Rodimus returned as though on cue with Perceptor in tow. A pleased-as-punch grin plastered over Roddi's face. Daniel glowered and sneered. "Dan-o!" Rodimus sang. "We've come to rescue you from yourself!"

"How charitable of you," Witwicky snarled. "Let me guess: you're going to chain me to my bed."

Rodimus gazed at the ceiling in mock thought. "Hmm. Optional. But no. not my style. Perceptor, if you please."

The Autobot scientist stepped forward and held between his fingers something that looked like mechanical underwear.

Rodimus pointed to it, "Dan-o, this nifty, hand-dandy device is the wave of the future. Mainly _yours_. It'll assist you during those moments of embarrassing incontinence and knows exactly when you've lost control. You'll never have to rush to the restroom again because this little bugger will tell you when you need to go and the nearest location of the appropriate facility to which you can do your business."

"This is NOT FUNNY, Rodimus! There's no fucking way I'm putting that on!"

Rodimus nodded. "You gabber on as if I didn't take that into account." Rodimus laid the side of his hand at the corner of his lip components and dropped his voice as though to whisper in Perceptor's audio. "Isn't he adorable? It's enough to make me want to slap him." Roddi stood straight, cocky grin in place. He resumed his normal volume. "Well...I think that we'll install your new equipment, and then get you a new cell-Oh! And Daniel, if you destroy your new cell? You'll not get another." Rodimus reached for the cell control. "Okey dokey!"

"I'm NOT putting it on!" Witwicky repeated. He watched as Rodimus cleared an opening for Perceptor. The scientist tossed the mechanical device into the cell and Rodimus closed the gap and the three Autobots stood and stared. Nothing happened. Blades cast his gaze around Perceptor and sent an unspoken question to his leader. Rodimus only nodded toward the cell in reassurance.

Daniel rolled his eyes when two minutes later, nothing happened. His shook his head. "Looks like your diaper bomb is a dud, Rodimus. I actually might have had more respect if the fucking thing actually worked." He laughed lightly and turned back to his favorite corner. He took three steps and the mechanism shifted, grew legs and raced after him.

With a _whoop!_ from Daniel, the device knocked him on the ground, wrestled with him-and his exosuit for a moment then latched securely in place.

Daniel sat up, face blank and speechless.

Rodimus clapped a hand on the scientist's shoulder strut. "Works just fine, Perceptor. Thanks a billion."

"Oh, my pleasure, Rodimus. Always willing to help out."

Rodimus nodded to a stunned Daniel Witwicky. "Blades, thus concludes our good deed for the day. You can contact security to escort our guest to his new quarters... uh... at your desecration."

Rodimus turned away, fully aware that Daniel flipped him off.

The Crested Moon

Optimus sat patiently in his command chair and listened to radio chatter. He gave Magnus the joy of last minute prep, while Rodimus attended other 'details'. Thinking on Rusti's deranged father, Optimus silently expressed gratitude toward Rodimus for dealing with the problem. Roddi always had a certain knack for handling such people. He knew, of course, he'd hear about the diaper incident for a long time to come.

In the last weeks they remained on Cratis, Optimus did not see Rusti more than a few precious times. He missed their relatively tranquil life on Earth. He missed the summers, the weekends, the Sunday drives. He wanted to make up for not having time for her, but nothing came to mind.

_The Autobots will think you mad for taking on an alien wife._

Void's faceless head rose slightly from the floor before him.

Optimus pretended not to see it.

Doublecross tapped down the dias steps and handed Optimus a report on isotrype counts ship to ship. The report stated they were a little low, but with caution, the Autobots had enough to last another thirty to fifty days.

_What's wrong with her? She looks good. Dumb sometimes, but good enough. What did Rodimus say? You know he's painfully aware of your extra-racial affair._ _She's not the first, of course. But doesn't that make you a freak? Only freaks take wives who aren't of their own kind, you know. Some religions state the prohibition of 'mixed blood'. You wouldn't want to commit a crime against the cosmos, would you?_

Now Optimus stared at the Virus. This nasty, vicious side of its personality was one he disliked most. It fed on his guilt, insecurities and mocked his self control.

[_The cosmos?_] he repeated, [_what do I care about the cosmos? It is a place, not an entity, not a life form. The cosmos is not self conscious_.]

Void's head pushed through the floor, its neck stretched ribbon-thin. Optimus scanned the room. No one noticed or saw the Virus stare at him. No one flinched as the freakish thing tilted its triangular head one side then another.

Optimus dimmed part of his optics then flared the lower part. _"Get off the bridge."_ he quietly spoke.

_Her God may not approve of you taking on a marital vow. You are not her species type, you're not even of the same skin color._

Optimus leaned forward. _[Who told you about religion?_] A call from medbay brought the Autobot leader out of the strange conversation. "Prime," he answered deadpan.

First Aid responded with hesitation. "Optimus, Sideswipe would like to talk with you."

He did not like Aid's tone. "On my way.

The Dancing Siren

Sideswipe paced the hall in front of Sunstreaker's room. Optimus grimly noticed the warrior's pallid appearance, the slight jitter from too little rest, the metal fatigue from lack of nutrition. Sideswipe gave Optimus a cold, condemning glare.

"He's dying in there!" Optimus nodded gravely. "How could you just stand by and let that happen? Sunny has always been there for you and there you are, sitting on your throne while he suffers!"

"He's not the only one suffering, Sideswipe-"

'OH! Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. I want you to realize we're all suffering."

"GREAT! One of your 'we're-all-in-this-together' speeches! Just what I needed. So you just stand by while we pick our afts up off the ground and somehow move on.

"Sideswipe, I know you are upset and terrified that you may lose your brother. We are doing everything we can-"

"The smelt you are! Do you know what he told me last night? He wanted to die! DIE! Sunny NEVER talks like that! He doesn't want me to see him anymore because he's got too many dents. Hah! He's dying because his paint job is... and he's upset because he's worried he'll never be the same!"

Sideswipe spun away, heaving with sorrow. Optimus gave him a moment's silence; a little emotional space. "And what of you, Sideswipe? Do you think that by not resting or recharging you're helping-"

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME!"

Optimus' optics flared. You can't help him," he said firmly. "None of us can until we get to Yolthanis Three. We do not have the means or the facility to properly repair him. I know you're frightened. I know you're frustrated."

Sideswipe shuddered, edging closer to a meltdown. Optimus laid a careful hand on the grieving soldier. "We have not forgotten Sunstreaker. And we have not forgotten you. Now I am ordering you to get rest, something to eat and something to do. Rodimus has assigned Doublecross to make sure you do so."

I don't need a babysitter, Prime." Sideswipe skulked.

"Yes you do. And you either do what she tells you or I'll babysit you myself-or worse, _Ultra Magnus_." Optimus watched the warrior twin slump in submission.

Satisfied, Optimus left Sideswipe and hunted First Aid. He found the Autobot doctor in a box of an office, sitting at a makeshift desk comparing Snarl's scans.

First Aid spoke before Optimus announced himself. "Do you know what I remember of Ratchet?"

"His personal hatred with the replicator?"

First Aid made a funny noise, half a smirk, have a snort. "No. But I remember that, too." Aid swivelled, two digipads in his hands. "He was always cranky. And as I sit here, working 'frontier' medicine, talking more to equipment than my aids, I realize that Ratchet was cranky because everything seemed to take too much time. You reset a support rod. And you wait. You reattach atrical zyn and you wait. You infuse fresh fluids and you wait. Humans are always under the impression that because we're robots, we're not different from their automobiles. You replace a part, patch a tire and off you go. So when I discussed Transformer physiology at Human medical conventions, I use the word _mechanism_, not machine to describe our status as living creatures. Have you not wondered why we are metal instead of flesh, wood or stone?"

Optimus had indeed thought it over. Certainly more so around Rusti. And had he been in a better mood, or had the question been put to Rodimus instead, Optimus was certain First Aid would have been given a smart remark. But the circumstances dictated a grim frame of mind and Optimus cared only about necessity. "How is Sunstreaker?

First Aid stared, frowned and set the digipads aside. He leaned over, arms on knees. He resembled an old man, worn with worry and helplessness. "We have him on twenty-four watch. We're having to scratch-build pieces... frankly. Duct tape, paperclips and crossed fingers is what's keeping Sunny and sixteen others-including Grimlock-alive. Snarl was eaten half alive with acid. He's alright as long as we keep him in a suspension capsule. But we can't let him out. And he bitches that he's bored. Sunstreaker... that's another case load."

First aid peered up at Optimus, his optic visor darkened as the medic tilted his head left. "There's something else going on in his head, Prime. I tended him yesterday. He _laughed_ about something he would not tell me. And it didn't sound like Sunstreaker."

Optimus stared, analyzing, hoping his next statement might be rejected. "Do you think Sunstreaker is infected with the Virus?"

"I wish I could say no. But I can't say yes, either. We simply don't know enough about the Virus to determine whether or not it... is capable of spreading."

"It's not going to spread, First Aid. The Virus adapts, changes. It might even... replicate."

First Aid sat up. "How do you know this?"

"I don't." Optimus answered grimly, "not for certain, anyway. I want to keep believing the Virus is only a virus, not a higher life form. Yet... how could anything come into contact with the Matrix and remain unchanged?"

First Aid offered no answers. He retrieved the digipads and stared into them. Optimus retreated to the door when First Aid called him. "Do you think it might be possible, however slight, the Matrix could repair Sunstreaker?"

Optimus did not turn around. He gripped the door frame. "The Matrix almost could not save Rodimus when he nearly died on Earth, First Aid. What's left of the Matrix's strength... isn't even _in_ the Matrix."

The Gabriel Genesis

"_All hail frequencies, this be Jazz on board the mighty-fine and uber-special Autobot cruiser, the __Trench Driver__. All systems are go at seven P.M. Earth Standard Pacific. Copy? Over."_

"_This is city commander Convoy on board the __Razor Lady__. We copy that, Jazz and echo all systems are go for lift-off. Repeat, the __Razor Lady__ is go."_

"_This is Ultra Magnus on board the __Sagittarius Mozart__, __Razor Lady__. We copy. And we copy that, __Trench Driver__. The __Mozart__ is ready for planetary departure."_

Blaster grinned and spun in his chair. "Echo that, Mozart. This be Blaster smashin' into the airwaves, yakkin' atchya from the illustrious Gabriel Genesis and the Presidente for life, Rodimus Prime is here t' give you a serious audio load. Listen in! Take it away, Boss!"

Rodimus patched into the all-systems comm channel. "This is Rodimus Prime. We are departing as soon as Titanum returns with his party. Stay crisp, Autobots. Stand by."

Rodimus killed the comm and Blaster grinned at him. "'Crisp'?" he asked.

Rodimus winked at him. All but two ships reported standing by at the ready. Optimus, who had to attend a situation on board the Dancing Siren, did not report yet. Rodimus hated delays; _this_ delay, in particular, when it meant the Autobots were finally escaping the next-to-the-crappiest planet he'd been on. Tempted to pace, Rodimus lapped his legs over the arm of his command chair instead.

"What I would not give for a good game of Candy Land right about now. Well, actually, Mousetrap is more fun."

Blaster re-rechecked his board just to keep his hands busy. "I always liked them driving games myself. The only time I get to feel like a car."

Rodimus half sat. "Mm. No, no, Blaster. You _never_ play video games with Rusti. She never bothers with the rules."

I gotchya, Boss-bot." Blaster turned to Rodimus who was already conversing with Optimus. Blaster turned back with frown. He hoped to find out what the Primes did and said half the time. But he supposed he couldn't begrudge their confidentiality. Gossip wasn't a good thing. A red button beeped on his board. Blaster patched into Titanium's comline.

"Whoa! Check it!" Blaster called. "Tite is headin' in hot and sizzling 'cros the plane! And he says Cyc's not with him!"

Rodimus searched the view screen. "Patch me in, Blaster."

"Autobot camp! This is Titanium! TAKE OFF! I repeat: commence launch! INOUX ON OUR TAILS!"

Rodimus hopped off his command dais and leaned over Blaster. "How close is he to one of our ships?"

Blaster called up the area map. "They're still a mile from the Confiscator."

"I gotcha, Op." Rodimus said a bit loudly. He patched into an alt frequencies comline. "Autobot shuttles, this is the Gabriel Genesis, the Confiscator, the Armored Crest and the Covenant will remain on the ground until further notice. All other ships: you are to commence lift off according to Ultra Magnus' schedule. I repeat, all ships except Genesis, the Confiscator, the Covenant and the Armored Crest are to commence lift off as of NOW. Rodimus Prime over and out!"

The Interrogator lifted off first. The Frostbite followed then the Razor Lady. The Saber's Claw struggled igniting thrusters. But after a few choice words uttered by Fahren, a good kick in the side, that ship took off, followed by the Vertical Horizon.

By the time the Hanibal's Mark made lift off, Titanium made it to the Confiscator. Heavy with purchased goods from Concentric City, Titanium required a little assistance from Hotspot. Bumblebee closed the hatch just as a wall of flying spiders came for them.

Rodimus stared at the view screen. "Shale, I hope to Primus you're a good pilot."

The femme reflected worry. "Why?"

"Because you'll have to out-think, out-run and out-maneuver those things."

Shale released the controls. "I-I can navigate the ship, Commander, but I-I can't-"

"Commander?" Cloudstreaker called from her place at scan control. "I'm a pretty good pilot. I've seen how they behave before we abandoned Fort Horizon."

Roddi nodded to navigation, indicating the personnel exchange. "Go!"

She did not need a second request. Cloudstreaker took navigation-pilot control. She shut down all automatic pilot systems, disabled all safety guards and shut power to all unnecessary functions.

Watching her flip switches on and off at professional speed, the bridge crew settled tightly in their seats. Rodimus patched into the ship's com. "All personnel, this is Rodimus. Strap in, hold your breath... and pray." then he wished he'd taken his own advice. With a sudden jerk, Rodimus was shoved into his command chair. The Gabriel Genesis shot off like a gun, bolting toward the Inoux. Under Cloudstreaker's precise control, the Genesis tipped hard left, and spiked through the mass of attackers, forcing them to split apart.

"YEAH!" everyone on the bridge shouted. But knowing their enemy, Cloudstreaker kept her course low and fast.

"Blaster," Rodimus called, "what's the status on the other ships?"

"The Racing Beast, the Alvarez and the Spiral Star are all in orbit. Magnus is behind us in the Sagittarian Mozart. He's holding off, ordering the Confiscator to hit escape velocity."

Rodimus stood from his command chair. Optimus waited for the last possible moment to leave. Roddi patched into ship-to-ship comm. "Crested Moon, you're still on the ground."

"Copy that, Genesis," Redial returned. "Sand by."

"Stand by my aft!" Rodimus spat. "What the hell is going on?"

Before anyone tried to answer, Blaster turned to Cloudstreaker. "Bogies jamming in at starboard point nine-seven degrees!"

The Genesis boomed, shuddered and blinked with the impact of a direct hit. Rodimus almost fell out his chair. "Cloudstreaker!" he said above the alert siren. "I don't care what you have to do, you cover the Crested Moon!"

She glanced and gave him a silent affirmation. Cloudstreaker cut secondary engines, freaking out half the personnel. She made a hairpin turn and halfway into the swing, re-engaged thrusters and shot the Genesis back to the abandoned camp.

Over ship-to-ship comm, Optimus' voice came in. "Crested Moon to Genesis, Rodimus, what the HELL are you doing?"

Roddi grinned. "Don't look at me! I'm not driving. What's going on? Why are you still here?"

"Docking clamps are jammed. Who's piloting the Genesis?"

"Cloudstreaker."

No answer. But Rodimus and the bridge overheard commotion. Someone argued hotly with Optimus.

Rodimus' optics darkened. Redial, Eclipse and Linksys all argued about the clamps. Optimus ordered Grotesque and Hardhead to remove all but two personnel from the bridge.

Optimus came back to the comline. "Ultra Magnus, you will have to fire on us. The clamps are non-functional."

Rodimus swore with a snarl. He jumped down to communications. "Blaster, is there a way we can override the Crested Moon's landing systems?"

"Yeah. If they're not password protected. But Prime said they were jammed, he didn't say the-"

"Blaster."

Knowing the look on Roddi's face, the communications officer patched in without another word. Genesis scanned the Crested Moon for broken comlines.

"THERE!" Rodimus spotted it before Blaster. The communications officer worked fast; furious fingers flew across the consol. "Crested Moon, this is Genesis. We found the problem. Ready your thrusters for launch-"

Everyone but Cloudstreaker lost their footing when the Genesis dipped hard then struck straight up in a vertical lift. Cloudstreaker spun the ship once to equalize the stabilizers.

Laser fire missed the Genesis by fractions.

"Hold on!" Cloudstreaker shouted. Only Rodimus heard her in time. She flipped the Genesis belly-up and the ship's automatic defenses blew off two attackers descending from nowhere, reaching speeds almost faster than the Autobot ships handled.

"I'm sorry!" Cloudstreaker cried. "I'm sorry!"

Rodimus clambered up while Blaster tried to continue his remote work on the Crested Moon. "Cloudstreaker," he growled, "Don't EVER apologize for saving our skins. Got that?"

"Yeah."

"Got it! I got it!" Blaster declared.

Optimus did not need to be told. The Crested Moon took off like a wound rubber band and wove through the sky between Inoux fighters as the Sagittarian Mozart tagged close behind.

According to plan, all Autobot shuttles were to rendezvous in an asteroid belt two planets from Cratis. Most of them made it.

Rodimus waited for damage reports and ship personnel status before heading into the Genesis' ready room. The other ship captains and commanders followed the same protocol except the Confiscator whose captain had Bumblebee and Titanium join her in the conference room.

Optimus signed off a digipad before facing the view screen. "Report." he said deadpan.

Titanium kept a steady gaze at the viewscreen. "We managed to acquire most of the needed materials, Optimus Prime. But we were attacked in Concentric City. Cyclonus took the girl with him so that I could escape with Bumblebee.

"And you are certain Rusti was with him?"

Titanium paused. "Yes, absolutely."

Convoy shook her head. "We've heard nothing from Cyclonus."

Optimus scratched something into another pad. "Cyclonus would have maintained radio silence to keep our location safe until Titanium arrived."

Rodimus suppressed the growing chill. "You don't think anything's happened do you?"

"No." Magnus answered. "Cyclonus is a professional. Our scanners would have picked up something."

Optimus' optics bounced from one captain or commander to another on his view screen. "We need to prepare a rescue party ready, then."

Galvatron found his way to the Crested Moon's bridge. He sat at the security consol while Optimus worked with Redial diagnosing the Moon's computer landing controls. The Decepticon watched Redial fidget nervously and grinned each time the communications officer glanced in his direction.

Finally Redial broke a growl. "Does he have to be here watching us work?"

Optimus almost flinched at the odd break in silence. He followed Redial's line of sight and greeted Galvatron with a slight nod. "What's wrong, Redial? Afraid he's going to bite?"

"He makes me nervous."

Optimus stared hard. "You have more important things to concern yourself than someone on the bridge, is that clear?"

Redial blinked. "Y-yes, sir." Optimus adamantly broke up a heated argument between Hardhead, Redial himself and Eclipse. Optimus confined Eclipse to her quarters and sent Hardhead and Linksys to the brig. Very unlike Optimus Prime. But everyone on the Crested Moon understood that Prime was short on toleration for nonsense.

Optimus approached the railing dividing the security station from the command dais. He lapped his arms over it and stared at Galvatron. "What's on your mind?" he asked quietly.

"You'll need more than just a rescue party, Prime. You'll need to send someone to aid Cyclonus. If, in fact, the Inoux have found us. Chances are they have found him and may be tracking him now."

"There's only four Autobots who can withstand flying in space for any length of time."

Galvatron leaned over. You mean the Aerialbots?"

"No. They were not initially designed to fly in space."

"A design flaw?"

Optimus hesitated. "Call it 'political sabotage', Galvatron. And I can't say more about it here."

"Hmm. Well, Prime, I hate to pour acid on a wound, but I doubt such Autobots as Velocity, Cloudstreaker or Highbrow can handle the Inoux with more than marginal success. And I'm confident Rodimus would agree when I say that it'd be foolhardy to send one of the cruisers out there, risking many lives for the sake of two, no matter how important Rusti and Cyclonus are to us."

Optimus stared a long moment. 'Well, I can't send you out there, either. It'd be like tossing a worm on a hook."

"At least I make a good looking worm." Galvatron smiled.

"Galvatron, the person who resuscitated you... did he or she mention how insouciant you are?"

Galvatron shook his head. "Not that readily I recall, Optimus. I was too busy experiencing life as a dust mite."

Dumbfounded, Prime turned away, perplexed. "Hey," Galvatron called him back, Optimus returned to the rail and his friend leaned so close, he could fall off the edge of the chair. Galvatron almost whispered. "Why not ask Magnus?"

Optimus flinched in surprise. "What?"

Galvatron glanced at Redial who remained busy. "Magnus," he repeated quietly. "He's fast enough and can handle extra firepower unlike the Headmaster."

"No," Prime objected. "He absolutely will not go for it-"

"Optimus, this is not the time for placating to personal issues. You need every resource you have at your disposal. If Magnus can, then Magnus should. And I'm not just suggesting this lightly or for personal gain no matter what Cyclonus means to me."

"He will not forgive me for it."

"Then he will simply have to grow up and deal with it. Who's ultimately in charge? You? Or his personal vow? He is an _asset_, not a wall plaque."

Galvatron was right. But Optimus dreaded the potential argument with Magnus. He leaned close enough to whisper: "If I get spaced for this, I expect you to rescue me."

"Why?" Galvatron grinned, "I'll most likely ask to join you."

Optimus pretended to rub his hand down the side of his helm, but he tucked in all his fingers but the middle, flipping Galvatron off.

Galvatron silently laughed.

The Sagittarian Mozart

Magnus stared at the view screen in the Mozart's ready room. He fixed his gaze at the one person (one of two Autobots) still alive who knew of his past. Magnus could not decide between shock or anger. He settled for indignant. "I can't believe you're asking me-"

"I don't have time for you to react, Ultra Magnus." Optimus answered socially. "I simply need you-"

"No! There's nothing simple about this! You're asking me to revert to something I abandoned to another life. More than that, you're asking me to reveal a personal issue that's been buried for millions of years! Who the Pitt do you think you are?"

"Your commanding officer." Optimus answered calmly. "And don't you think that if I had a better option, I'd take it? Or do it myself?"

Ouch. Magnus glowered.

"I'm sorry, Magnus," Prime added gently. "I have always tried to respect your preference to remain... mostly anonymous. But we simply do not have that luxury now. I am forced to use every advantage and every resource-"

Magnus nodded, following the logic, but not liking it. "I know. I know. I just.." he could not bring himself to say how exposed he felt. Once his secret was out, he could never put the lid back on. "I'm going to need back up."

"You'll have it," Optimus quickly promised.

Highbrow, Velocity and Cloudburst met Magnus at the Mozart's docking bay. Ultra Magnus personally double checked their weapons before he stepped back and measured each Autobot with his optics. "This will be the fastest mission you will most likely perform. We will go in, rescue, hit hard and shoot right back here just before the fleet heads into warp speed. This mission must go exactly according to plan or none of us will be returning. Do I make that clear?"

"Yes, Sir!" Only Highbrow responded. The other two, assigned to Fortress Draco, did not have Magnus as a drill sergeant.

"What was that?" Magnus asked Velocity and Cloudburst.

Velocity offered a sheepish grin. "Sir. Uh, yes, sir."

"Pump up that VOLUME, SOLDIER, UNLESS YOU'RE DYING OR DEAD! I EXPECT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE SOLDIER! ARE YOU PRETENDING TO BE A KITTEN?"

"Sir! NO SIR!"

"What? Are you some puny little DLL droid wannabe?"

"NO, SIR!" Velocity strengthened her voice.

Somewhat satisfied at the moment, Magnus stepped back. "Stay focused. Stay sharp. And keep an optic on my lead. What is it, Cloudburst?"

"Sir, I don't see your shuttle, Sir."

Magnus did not smile but inwardly he realized he was going to enjoy this moment. "Fall in, Soldier." Magnus spun about, took a running start and leapt into the air. His form shifted, rearranged and folded into a tough, space-faring ship. His backup crew almost lost time while they stood aghast.

Magnus led them on a tricky, zig-zag path out the asteroid belt and into three thousand miles of Cratis' twin moons. Scanners cried out as they detected combat ensuing on the other side of the first moon.

Velocity plunged in first, firing distracting missiles. She veered hard into the conflict, barely scraping by two Inoux. Cloudburst shadowed behind. He shot one Inoux and led a tailgate on a wild chase, weaving in and among the other assailants.

Highbrow joined the party crashers and diverted laser fire from a damaged, unresponsive Cyclonus. Magnus appeared a moment later, twisting and meandering between their opponents. He gunned several Inoux with similar results; the Inoux resisted laser fire and photonic charges alike.

Locked inside Cyclonus, Rusti knocked her head against the interior. The Inoux weren't messing around. They hit again and one more time.

"Knock it OFF!" Rusti screamed, frustrated. She knew, however, they did not hear her.

"Transformer surrender..."

"He can't surrender, you bogus, thacking sli'kik'ik! CYCLONUS, WAKE UP!"

_Thoomkoon!_

Rusti screamed again as an Inoux flew scant inches before them. She started to cry and her eyes fluttered off the tears. "Control... control..." she told herself. "This really isn't much worse than the cyberwraith..." Her mind raced with an idea. "He's a Transformer. Using transducer relays and terminal textports and... multi-link capacitors, thermal tri-guard preps-" she gasped and smiled in relief. On the front window a projection appeared, writing off Cyclonus' automatic scanners. At least ten Inoux surrounded them, waiting.

A pulse bleeped at the bottom of the 3-D window and all other potential indicators flared at her in Decepticon writ.

"I have no idea what this is for," she mumbled

"Transformer. Comply. Choose."

A flash of yellow blossomed from Cyclonus' port and Rusti just caught the tail-end of an Autobot. But her relief died when the other Inoux scrambled in a confusing configuration. They flew over, around and under the unconscious Decepticon while a second Autobot fired at them. A third Autobot spirited into the melee. Rusti expected someone to hit Cyclonus any second as the mobile of players zipped and flew around them.

"Cyclonus?" she called again. "Cyclonus, you _must wake up_!" No response. Of course not. Rusti clutched the seat beneath her and when her hand contacted a wet spot, she brought it up slowly, hoping she had not wet herself.

Hemotricity, Transformer blood. Cyclonus suffered internal injuries. Rusti clenched her fist. "Okay," she said to her unconscious companion. "Let me explain something to you: I am a-or was-a high school student. Okay? I don't even have a driver's licence. I did drive with Optimus once-but don't tell anybody else that-cuz that uh... That's personal." Rusti took a gulp of air. "Okay. I am not going to die floating in space. So... I'm going to see if I can access your mind, or part of it to... to uh. Get you moving again. Okay? Don't be offended, I just don't want to die. I've never done this with a living mechanism before. So bear with me."

With a second deep breath, Rusti concentrated on the Decepticon's exterior and mentally probed her way around. Cyclonus' powerful life force surrounded her; smooth, strong, sharp. He did not have Optimus' depth nor the sensation of purity. Cyclonus was more like a blade, direct and intense.

Rusti found his wings and from there, she encountered his navigation systems. She could maneuver his form, but not access a propulsion system... Assuming, of course, he utilized one separate from his robotic systems.

A face flashed in her mind, kicking her mentally. Rusti startled and batted her eyes. The face flashed again, staring back with deep cruel eyes-or maybe they were optics.

Not Decepticon.

Blinking, gasping for breath, she gradually calmed herself enough to concentrate, to turn and face the fearful. Unicron? Somewhere in the back of Cyclonus' mind loomed a monster, dragging him ever further into the dark. The tattered remains of Unicron's will still fluttered in the deepest recesses of Cyclonus' mind and subconscious. He feared the thing, dead or not.

Someone voiced along Decepticon communication frequencies. Rusti frantically touched the dashboard, hoping to trigger something. Instead, her hand accidently brushed along the 3-D window, knocking a scanner off.

"Oh, well, duh!" she chastised herself. That's a mind projection."

She searched the window, straining to hear the voice again. There! She spotted the incoming call as displayed and touched it, moving her finger up, down, side left then right to tune in.

"-clonus, this is Highbrow! Do you read?"

"Highbrow?" Rusti cried. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes-yes, Ma'am! What's wrong-"

"Cyclonus is badly injured and I can't fly him!"

"Hang tight there, Missy-"

Highbrow's communication cut out when another light sparked from his location. Cyclonus rocked slightly from the energy wave. Rusti settled in her seat, forced to wait and hope. She watched the Inoux move predaceously across space. They grouped, attacked, split apart and regrouped like a band of cunning, hungry wolves.

Highbrow, Velocity and Cloudburst lined wingtip to wingtip before Cyclonus in a line-up of monsters verses robots.

The Inoux assaulted, racing for the kill. The three Autobots held their position until the last minute. Cloudburst dropped, Velocity shot up and Highbrow tipped left at high speeds. Their tactic forced the alien rivals to split in three direction from Cyclonus.

Rusti watched until she spotted a fourth Autobot fly in from the first moon's south pole. The Autobot was huge, big enough to swallow Cyclonus. He swept up and caught Cyclonus in a tractor beam.

"_Are you all right, Miss Witwicky?_"

Rusti's jaw dropped. "Ultra Magnus?" she squeaked. "No way!"

"Stand by."

The tractor beam carefully maneuvered Cyclonus into Magnus' interior. Not more than a moment or two later, the other three Autobots landed in the same docking bay. Velocity transformed and gripped the side railing as the hatch closed.

"It's a go, Magnus!"

Magnus dipped hard to starboard and bellied up half a roll. He tipped to port, escaping two Inoux tailing from the starboard bow.

The Major-general throttled for the moon and glided dangerously close to the surface. Six Inoux fliers chased him along the lumpy lunar crevices. Magnus frantically scanned for an advantage.

Far ahead lay an old mining complex. Neglected for centuries, Magnus' readouts indicated potential structural instability and massive metal fatigue.

Perfect.

Magnus dropped into the abandoned encampment and blasted the entrance. He flew in with just enough space to accommodate his width and height. The Inoux did not hesitate to pursue. The first one in fired on Ultra Magnus and clipped his underside. The Autobot hissed inward as the alien weapon burned his exostructure.

The mine shaft sloped sharply, a downhill plunge that, even Magnus, found unnerving. But he found the bottom and ignited his turbo thrusters. One mile ahead, scanners declared the exit in sight. Ultra Magnus fired a total of six rockets into the walls and three at the entrance just as he blew out. The mine shaft collapsed behind and buried the Inoux.

The Racing Beast

"_Let's just give her a wee amount of oxygen, eh?_ Yes, yes. There we be. Yes. Hello, Miss Witwicky. Good to see you well."

Rusti could not suppress a moan. "My head hurts."

The alien doctor nodded. "Aye. It's good that your head hurts and that you're alive, yes? We retrieved you from Cyclonus and now you are here."

"Cyclonus? Is he okay? I couldn't help him."

Dr. Zornoy and his assistant gave her no answer.

The Spiral Star

The fact that the mission was successful did not lighten Magnus' mood. Now it came to it, he thought the whole operation foolhardy. The Inoux were a formidable foe and the rescue mission could have jeopardized everyone.

Landing on the Spiral Star, Magnus waited patiently while First Aid directed his crew to carefully remove Cyclonus. Magnus waited until everyone else departed. He shifted back to robot mode. An intense sense of guilt sickened him as he headed for the bridge.

He passed through the shield doors and frowned at a waiting, nonchalant Galvatron. "I hope you had clearance to be here," Magnus rumbled.

"Mizz Witwicky is my chaperone, although she is currently on the Racing Beast." Galvatron answered evenly. "I am aware I'm not supposed to be anywhere without her. But Cyclonus is here. Or was I to have your special authorization to be _anywhere?_"

Magnus glowered and walked off. Unfazed by the city commander's unaccommodating mood, Galvatron tailed. "I must say, Magnus, you're a little rusty in your alternate mode."

Magnus snapped around, a finger closed on Galvatron face. "Not a single word of this to anyone. Got me? Not one."

"Why are you so ashamed of your heritage, Ultra Magnus? There's noting wrong with being a Decepticon." Galvatron easily dodged Magnus' flying fist. The punch landed in the wall. Galvatron gazed from the hole to Magnus' face. "Feeling better? Listen to me. It's not your species make up that makes you, Magnus."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Who are you to counsel me, anyway? Or have you forgotten your own insidious past?"

Galvatron shook his head. "I cannot forget or make up for what I've done. But this isn't about me. It's about you, refusing to be something because of what it appears to represent."

"Oh. Alright." Magnus sneered. "So tell me, Mister Slaghead, would you offer such enlightened counseling were you speaking to Starscream?"

Galvatron paused a moment considering. "I think you confuse 'Decepticon' with malice, evil and blood lust, Ultra Magnus."

"The fact of it is, Galvatron, I walked out on that life millions of years ago. I found the lust to control, murder and pillage more than I care to tolerate." Magnus' optics flared with disgust.

"All of which was directed under Megatron's rule, Ultra Magnus. But I am here to tell you that the Decepticons were not always so vile. There was once an age of honor among them. They were warriors, protectors. Not hunters or scavengers.

"I see," Magnus returned coldly. "So now you're on a crusade to bring virtue, honor and respectability to such scum as Frenzy or Scourge."

"I am not here to evangelize anyone, Magnus," Galvatron dipped into serious tones. "I know worthless when I see it. I am saying is you have no reason to fear a part of yourself that is clearly more powerful, more capable of resistance than the rest of them here. By denying it and quashing it, you disable everyone else. They do not need Ultra Magnus, the Autobot City Commander, the one who forsook the ruthless Decepticon war machine because he had high standards. They need Ultra Magnus, the former Major-general of the Decepticon armies; who understands the meaning of integrity and staunch perseverance."

Magnus balked. "So you're the one who talked to Prime! I was wondering who blabbed."

Galvatron turned cross. "Get off yourself, Magnus. You saved the lives of two people today. Two_ very_ important people. Excuse me."

Galvatron left Magnus to himself in search of Cyclonus.

The Racing Beast

"I'm fine." Rusti insisted for the tenth time. Dr. Zornoy clicked his tongue in sympathy.

"It is not what your current blood pressure says to me. It says, '_Yes, Doctor, she is uptight and suffers a slight case of infection'_ and let me see here..." he utilized a microscan along each of her ears. "Aye. See that? I ask there Mizz Fesso, be so kind as to hand me the hypo behind you?"

The volunteer pushed her lips into a smile and handed Zornoy a hypo filled with light blue liquid.

Rusti winced as the antibiotic entered her bloodstream. "Is this going to turn parts of my body into another color?"

"Mm. Should not." Zornoy answered lightly. "Most likely the powdered eggs will do that. Odd you ask that, Miss Witwicky.

"Well...it's just that uh, I heard what happened to my dad."

"The diaper was not my idea." Zornoy quickly responded.

She scoffed. "No, that's definitely a Rodimus thing."

"Ah... already heard about that, have you? Well, then, you must be talking about his lice incident. Most not happy for him. And there we are for you, Mizz Witwicky. Do not blow up any balloons or blow bubbles in your milk for twenty-four hours. Eh?"

She gazed into his lime green eyes and wondered why she did not have him growing up. "Thank you, Dr. Zornoy. You're a doll."

His light-hearted smile warmed with gratitude and he shooed her out.

The Sagittarian Mozart

Rodimus left his ship to join all the rest of the senior staff for another ponderous get-together. He immediately noticed Lady-Autobot Spectrum replaced her late commander, Tektonix, at his usual seat. A tankard of energon sat in front of her, untouched. Roddi rounded her and laid an hand on her shoulder.

"Doing okay?" he asked quietly. She forced a smile without an answer. Tektonix would be missed for a long time.

Magnus entered the room with a small stack of digipads. Lagging at his heels came Brainstorm, now commanding the Spiral Star and Lakendra Littlefield who Optimus gave command of the Sunset Kummya.

Hotspot shifted uneasily in his seat and frowned to himself. "Exactly how long is this git-together gonna last, Rodimus?"

"Beats me. Depends on what everyone has to say. Didn't get any rest before take off?"

"Er... No. Not the right kind, anyway."

Roddi nodded and decided he'd rather not know. He gave a broad grin to Gryph, Quazar and Kup as they took their seats.

Optimus followed Titanium into the room, optics on a pad and mind attending an internal conversation. He greeted no one.

Strike Back, Ambient and Jemel Helser arrived last. Each officer picked an appropriate seat and waited. Optimus turned off the digipad before him and ran his optics around the room. "All nineteen of us are here, I see," he said. "Thank you for coming."

Strike Back stretched. "And not a Decepticon to be found."

He got the same answer from both Primes in stereo: "Not now, Strike Back." That they answered in unison caught everyone's attention. But not everyone smiled.

Optimus started the meeting again. "Captain Helser, how are things on the Dancing Siren?"

"Peachy, sir," Jemel replied confidently.

"Excellent. Captain Littlefield?"

"Smoothly," Lakendra answered. "The Kummya has a good crew."

Optimus nodded, approving. "Ultra Magnus will give us a report on his mission and then Titanium, if you will not mind bringing us up to date?"

Magnus laced fingers and laid his arms on the table, palms down. "At approximately twenty-two point zero nine, my team and I reentered Cratian space in the attempt to retrieve Lieutenant Cyclonus and civilian one Miss Rusti Witwicky. We encountered ten Inoux currently engaged in assault. I submitted orders to my team to distract our enemy while I procured Lieutenant Cyclonus. The ten Inoux readily engaged Cloudburst, Velocity and Highbrow. We discovered, yet again, the futility of our weapons against them. The only reason we made it back was they let us go. Reasons are unknown. They have not followed us into the asteroid belt. Again, for reasons that remain unclear. And I am told Cyclonus is recovering."

Strike Back leaned forward, suspicious. "How is it, Ultra Magnus, that you suddenly have the ability to shift into a third form?"

Rodimus glared. "Not open for discussion, Strike Back," he warned.

"Why?" Strike Back insisted. "Is he a former spy or something we should know about?"

Rodimus' glare turned dark. "I said it's not open to discussion."

Optimus rescued the awkward silence. "Titanium, your report, please."

"We managed to acquire most of the supplies you requested and had to substitute one of them. Our mission went smooth until we spotted an Inoux perched on a building wall. We were attacked. Cyclonus insisted I returned to camp at once while he fended the enemy off. I -uh-I didn't think it right to leave him or the girl, but I believed the choice was better to return to base camp with the supplies. I caught Bumblebee along the way. But I lost track of Lieutenant Cyclonus thereafter. I have all the supplies tallied and inventoried in my detail report, Optimus."

Optimus made a note on another slimmer digipad and silently nodded. The table fell solemn and uncomfortably silent. Ultra Magnus watched Optimus and Rodimus a moment. Neither said a word until Rodimus' lip components twitched with a smile. He snatched a mischievous glance to Optimus then gave his attention to Spectrum.

"We need to ah... relocate the Dinobots. Well, three of them, anyway. They're on the Spiral Star with Grimlock and in spite of his best efforts, Repugnus can't keep them out of the stasis chamber. First Aid is losing his mind. So... Spectrum, how 'bout it?"

"On my ship?" Spectrum snapped pointedly.

"Yeah."

She glanced at Magnus as though searching for support. "Why my ship?"

"Because it has a storage bay large enough to handle them. I mean, it's obvious they won't stay docile for long."

"I'm sorry, Rodimus," the femme interrupted. "I thought their appointed guardian was supposed to control them."

"Well, yes," Rodimus verified. "But they're not puppies who just sleep, Spectrum. We're going on a long voyage and the Dinobots require room. It's either that or hydroponics."

Spectrum looked horrified. "Hydroponics?"

"We have to have food for our Human friends, Spectrum." Magnus answered.

Spectrum turned back to Roddi. "How much space did you say the Dinobots needed?"

Roddi grinned. "Okay. Lakendra, you're assigned to hydroponics."

"Um..." Littlefield glanced at the giant robots around her and were it not for her other EDC companion, she would have felt far too small. "Um, will we be carrying animals, too?"

"Why? Do we have any?" Roddi instantly asked.

"Robo-lice." Brainstorm said out of turn. Strike Back smirked.

"No," Optimus answered instead. "We do not have any. We have enough to start crops and rotate oxygen supplies-" he stared at Strike Back who scribbled on his pad, barely suppressing laughter. Optimus continued, "I think I will assign the Sabor's Claw to maintenance protocols."

Strike Back sharply turned, caught like a child pulling a prank. "W-maintenance protocols, Optimus?"

Optimus stared, stoic and silent. Rodimus also fell dead silent as he jotted notes into three different pads. Magnus took up the challenging city commander. He visually pinned Strike Back like someone would a new worker. "Such protocols include the laundering and soaking of filters across the fleet. You will need to set up systems for Humans as well as Autobots and our other diverse life forms. You will need to organize a nursery and clothing facility and run a recycling center so we can reuse properties such as water and solvent."

Strike Back sneered at Optimus who pointedly ignored him. "I can't believe you're assigning _my_ ship for that sort of task!"

"Why?" Rodimus asked. "It's just as important as the Spiral Star's science lab."

"You're basically assigning me to wash everyone's underwear!"

"Oh!" Rodimus turned sarcastic. "I was not aware you were incapable of handling such a difficult job, Strikes. Well... Gryph, would you consider taking it on?"

"Certainly, Roddi. The Mark is more than happy to do it."

"Good," Strike Back snorted, "Her _girls_ can do it."

Optimus pinned Strike Back with a searing gaze. "Strike Back, you say one more word at this table and I will dismiss you entirely. Is that clear?"

"Aye, sir." the former city commander submitted.

Optimus immediately turned to Titanium. "I'm appointing your ship, the Confiscator, the Trench Driver and the Interrogator to troop drills. And I know everyone will object when I say this, but I'm going to order it, anyway. I want drills done with children ten and over."

Everyone except Rodimus, dropped their mandibles in shock. Lakendra was the first to find her voice.

"Optimus-"

"This is not a baby sitting facility, Lakendra. If you want the children to survive, they'll need to learn to protect themselves."

"No! You're going to teach them how to fight? They're _children!"_

"And a liability," Rodimus added. "Or don't you recall what happened on the Frostbite?"

"What? You think training the children to fight would have kept Decepticons from invading the ship?" Lakendra challenged.

"No." Rodimus replied. "But it would have given them a better chance."

"There's no way they could have outrun the Decepticons! Even Rusti Witwicky couldn't-"

"Put a weapon in their hands and they have a better chance," Rodimus insisted. "This is about survival, Lakendra. We're not on a field trip."

"They're innocent-"

"And a target. Besides... they lost their innocence the day the Quintessons attacked. They can't go back to that point in their lives. They can only move forward and put their anger and fear to work."

"I HATE your war! You-_you_ brought it to us! You contaminated our world with your senseless violence!"

Rodimus leaned forward. "Do you really think you're that innocent? Maybe you need another look into your own history before you judge ours."

"At least we didn't have monsters from space coming down to obliterate entire cities."

Optimus interjected, "this is not accomplishing anything. Our goal is to reach Yolthanis Three, regroup and return to Earth. At present speed it will take us six weeks to arrive. Once we get there, we can decide who stays and who goes to war." Prime gazed hard at Lakendra. "I do not expect everyone to fight that war. But I do expect everyone to have some ability to defend themselves. I am not dragging people out this way to die, but to find or make a second chance to get Earth back from the Quintessons. Just because we're drifting further from Earth does not mean we are running away. We are running to get aid." Optimus paused to read the faces of the senior staff and the newly-appointed captains. Lakendra fought tears. Strike Back stared into his digitablet. Gryph wrote on hers and Titanium stared at the table top.

Optimus continued, "Ultra Magnus, have you completed your special assignment?"

"Negative."

"I have a new one. Find out what the devil happened to the landing gear on the Crested Moon. I am fed up with the mysterious circumstances and there had better not be any more of them. I want scout ships sent out from the Mozart, the Refractor and the Racing Beast. I also want better weapons detail from the Hanibal's Mark and the Confiscator. Anyone else have something else to say?" Optimus paused. "Say it now because I may not have time to deal with it later."

Captain Littlefield took a deep breath, now over her anger. "What-ah-what would you like us to do with Mister Witwicky?"

"Keep him in isolation," Roddi answered instantly. "He's not to have any visitors and if he gives you any crap, contact me immediately. By the way, Captain, how is Jasmine Goodwin?"

"Which one?" Littlefield rolled her eyes. "Doctor Zornoy keeps expecting her to die. But... one is a genius, the other is insane. And she keeps screaming."

No one offered answers or condolences. Goodwin's situation lay beyond science or medical help.

Optimus etched another note on his pad. "If there is nothing else at present, then we'll break here. Armored Crest, Cold Refractor, Hanibal's Mark and Interrogator, I want round-the-clock recon. We're going to need the field cleared for the rest of the ships. Hotshot, I'm leaving that operation in your hands. Do not be afraid to enlist EDC or civilian pilots if they've had training. Jazz, I know you have our backs."

"Damn straight!"

Optimus lifted his optics off the digipad and glanced from one side of the table to the other. "Meeting dismissed." he declared.

The Sunset Kummya

At the next available ship, they sent Rusti off the Racing Beast to new quarters on the Sunset Kummya. No sooner did she touch foot upon the landing bay when an older woman greeted her with a dour expression, a stern voice, an ID tag and her first work assignment.

"I am Julia Karnes. I am your level supervisor. Your quarters are listed here. You will find a map locator in the elevator. Do not lose your tag; it's the means to identify you if something goes wrong. Showers are allowed once every two days. Meals are at eleven AM and six PM. This is your work assignment. You will assist in the set up and upkeep of the new hydroponics division. Everyone has a job here. Everyone. If you refuse to work, you will not eat. Clear and simple. If you have a problem, we will address it. But everyone will work. Any questions?

Rusti shook her head. She stayed silent because she was delighted to work in a garden; far more interesting than laundry or dishes. "I do have one question," she said. "Why didn't we setup a garden on Cratis?"

Karnes lifted her right brow. Her voice stayed tight, almost monotone. "Cratian soil proved incapable of supporting earth plant life. Anything more?"

"No, Ma'am."

Rusti visited her future job site before seeking her new quarters. She wished she could have been assigned to the Crested Moon to spend a little time with Optimus. But under the circumstances, Rusti understood their relationship had to sit at the bottom of his priorities list. She chose to be adult enough to accept things as they were. No one was afforded special treatment and she didn't mind working. Besides, Rusti reminded herself, she's had some experience in gardening and that may prove useful.

Rusti found her quarters-such as they were. The Sunset Kummya's initial design intended everyone to have their own space. But all rooms and halls were modified to stack people, supplies and goods on top one another like grocery store shelves. Rusti was given middle bunk, sandwiched between two women not much older than herself. One lady, all arms and legs, slept under her, languishing with a blank expression. The woman above lay in a messy bed. Ink marks, scratches and crude drawings framed a photograph and driver's licence on the wall beside her.

"Hey, Bo," she called the gal below, "Looks to me we got Snow White bunking with us."

'Bo' rolled her eyes. "I hope you don't toss and turn," she said coldly. "I'm a light sleeper."

The girl above sputtered into laughter. That's right. She'll kick your ass, little girl."

Unintimidated, Rusti played right along. "Pfffp doubtful."

That got Bo's attention. "What's your name, Snow White?"

"Rusti. And Snow White had seven suitors and got her ass kicked by a poisoned apple." she flopped onto her mattress. "I don't do apples and I don't have seven suitors."

Bo frowned. "I don't got even one suitor."

The woman above groaned. "You got yourself a suitor, Rusti?"

"What?" Rusti said incredulously. "We're doing good surviving. You have one?" Rusti did not like how her mattress smelled. She scrunched her nose over the combined scents of WD-40 and sweat.

"Eh. Not a _suitor_," the gal at the top replied, "he just suits." Bo broke out laughing.

Rusti was not impressed. "So what's your name? Or what do they call you?"

"Name's Ruby. They call me The Ruze."

Rusti carefully kept the grunt out of her voice. "And what did you do for a living, Ruze?" Rusti would not have been surprised had Ruby declared herself a 'showgirl' or exotic dancer.

"Ah, you'd not believe me, Sweetie Pie."

Rusti peeked out and up, catching Ruby's dark eyes. "Do I look like a blonde to you?"

Ruby cracked with laughter. "Ah shit, no."

"So what did you do?"

"I was a paralegal." She smiled, pleased with Rusti's expression. "See? Told ya' you'd not believe me." Rusti smiled, glad she was wrong. But Ruby wasn't done yet. "So, Sweety, what did you do?"

"Went to high school."

"Come again?"

Bo wrestled with a pillow. "What?"

"Uh, yeah," Rusti reinforced. "Before the time jump. I was seventeen. Now I'm twenty-one and I'll be twenty-two in June."

"Get out!" Ruby leaned over and stared at Rusti upside down. "Where'd you go to school?"

"Cascade Prime High."

"Pfffp." Ruby hauled herself back up. "They got the meanest teachers there."

"You've been to Cascade?" Rusti thought she should have remembered seeing Ruby at least once.

"Hell, no! I took net school. Too much a wild child for them halls. I don't like class rooms. Can't sit still. But my kid sister went. Brutal." Ruby suddenly dropped silent. "She's gone now.

Rusti fell sad for her. "I know."

"You gotta kid sister?"

"No. I _am_ the kid sister."

The conversation dwindled into sleep. Rusti had no sense of time and hoped the Kummya remained silent long enough for her to get descent rest.

"_Hey, hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can't just come on in here uninvited and all. You gotta have clearance, dimwit!"_ Rusti recognized Ruby's whiny voice and assumed she spoke with someone who tried to enter their room.

"I'm here to report to Miss Rusti." That was Galvatron's voice.

Rusti sat up and batted her eyes twice to make sure it was Galvatron that stared at her. She wondered how he managed to fit into their room and when her sleep-addled brain failed to add that equation, she scrunched her face. Galvatron smiled and wiggled his fingers in greeting. She propped up on her elbows and twisted her face with puzzlement. "Galvatron, I thought you were on the Spiral Star."

"You left without me," he immediately answered.

Ruby's motions caused the bunk to squeak slightly. "Hey, you guys friends?" she asked with casual tones. Bo said something else, but Rusti did not catch it.

"I did not leave," she answered the Decepticon. "They dragged me here. So how and why are you here?"

"I'm not supposed to be. I mean..." Galvatron's voice trailed and died when Rusti held her hand up for his silence.

"Um, let's take this outside, okay? Bo and Ruze need their beauty sleep."

Galvatron complied and they slipped into the empty corridor. Rusti winced with an oncoming headache and pushed the pain aside to concentrate on her charge. For a split moment, she wondered how she ended up taking charge of their Decepticon hitch hikers.

Oh, right. The Matrix did it. Or rather the Matrix did it _through_ her... Galvatron struck the conversation anew, sparing Rusti the frustration of logic and rationality before her brain kicked in.

"Rodimus hates me. And I know I'm not supposed to run around by myself." Galvatron did not whine. His optics implored her like a clueless child.

Rusti frowned. "Rodimus hates everyone and I hope they assigned a crate for you. All pets have to be on a leash."

He did not respond to the joke. Galvatron's optics reflected concern and disquiet. "They said Cyclonus will not be up for several more days."

Rusti tried to read Galvatron's posture. "He was bleeding pretty badly, or so I heard. Will he be okay?"

"Oh, yes. Cyclonus... black holes cannot defeat him, he's-" Galvatron's burst of enthusiasm melted into dejection.

Rusti gave him a moment or two in case the Decepticon had something more to say. When he did not, she made ready to put her tattered jeans back on. "Did they assign a place for you to crash, Galvatron?"

"What?" Surprise proceeded realization and he nodded. "Oh, you mean rest. Well, officially, I'm not even here."

Rusti lost expression. "What?"

"They don't really know-"

"Galvatron, did you stowed away on the Kummya? And how did you get past security?"

"What security? They had a couple of teenage boys with plugs in their ears. This is not _Magnus'_ ship, you know."

"Okay, okay. But how did you get off the Spiral Star? No. You know what? I don't want to know."

Galvatron turned cross, "I didn't attack anyone."

"That's not what I'm implying," Rusti answered gently. "It's just that I've not had a lot of sleep and if you give me a smart remark, I can't retaliate."

Galvatron smiled in honest gratitude. "Can I stay with you?"

"What? You mean sleep in the same room?"

"I promise not to steal the covers."

Rusti lifted her chin, closed her eyes and rocked on her heels. "I expect you to behave, Galvatron."

"I will."

And help out."

"I will."

She opened her eyes and slightly smiled. "We're going to build a garden center tomorrow. Can you handle that?"

"Are we planting Humans?"

While a group of engineers planned the hydroponics facility, workers of all ages and types labored diligently and quickly. They removed walls, supports and rearrange rooms, halls and corridors on the Sunset Kummya.

Rusti worked the third shift, assigned to remove and 'fold' utility walls. She, Bo, Ruby and Galvatron arrived fifteen minutes early.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, Decepti-crap! You are not authorized to be here!"

Rusti icily glared at the two EDC 'heros' who trained Targetmaster weapons on Galvatron. She approached one with gritting teeth. "He's with _me_, _Stupid_."

"He's not authorized-"

"Then you'd better do something about security in the docking bays, Georgy-Boy before I report this incident to Optimus Prime. Galvatron is under my guardianship. If you have a problem, I suggest you take it up with Magnus."

He leered in her face, "I'll do just that. Cuz you're under arrest."

"This is Ultra Magnus-oooh boy." Magnus stared upon two EDC personnel, their angry faces and Galvatron behind them. Standing beside the Decepticon, Rusti smiled, baring teeth.

"They didn't get the memo." she blurted before anyone else.

The blonde male captain at the left, shot her a snarl over his left shoulder. "Quiet." He peered at Magnus under a set of heavy brows. "This girl insists Galvatron was assigned under her care-"

"Yes, er, uh, Captain. That's right. However, I thought Galvatron was on the Spiral Star."

Rusti came to Galvatron's rescue: "He followed me here, Ultra Magnus. They just shipped me off the Racing Beast."

"Cyclonus?" Magnus asked informally.

Galvatron piped in: "Medbay. Spiral Star. Having far less fun than I."

Magnus took note that Galvatron scrunched behind Rusti as though she were a psychological shield. The city commander turned his attention to the EDC officers. "Captain, I don't see what the problem is-"

"He stowed away on the Kummya and did not declare or request permission-SOP... this is a breech of security!"

Magnus took that in. "Captain, the Kummya consists of sixty-four percent organics, most of which are of Humanoid physic. If a Transformer managed to sneak on board the Kummya it means the problem lies not with Galvatron, but your sorry lack of security and the discipline necessary to maintain it. That being said, the situation concerning Galvatron only reinforces the fact that Optimus and Rodimus were correct to instigate training for everyone.

"But-"

"As for Miss Rusti Witwicky, the commanding staff should already be aware that she is Galvatron's guardian and chaperon as apparently designed by Prime."

"Ultra Magnus-"

"IN WHICH CASE," Magnus interrupted, "if you have problem with that, you'll need to discuss it with one of them. Magnus out."

The EDC officers faced one another hoping for better answers before turning their consternation on Rusti and Galvatron.

As it turned out, Galvatron worked and cooperated very well with everyone. Rusti kept an extra eye on those less congenial with her charge. She was genuinely pleased how well Galvatron adapted to working. He joked lightly, if carefully, around the more hyper-sensitive and gracefully handled their less-than-courteous remarks.

Rusti helped set up a labeling system while others worked on irrigation. Galvatron followed her from plot to plot, staying mindful of those around them. He still could not resist setting her up for an absurd conversation. "So tell me, Mizz Witwicky, where are they getting the soil with which to bury the bodies?"

Rusti smiled as she applied labels using magnetic strips. "The body would be _yours_, Galvatron... if they didn't think you'd poison the plants. And I have no idea where the dirt is coming from."

"Hmm. Well, I'm not a gardener. Never understood why people get fixated over watching things pop up from the ground. However, as my memory serves, do not organic plants require nitrogen to grow?"

"Yes."

"And does that not often come from such things as animals?"

"Yes, Galvatron."

"But, Mizz Rusti, there are no animals with us."

Rusti paused in her work. She cast her eyes upon the contemplative towering giant and put on a shit-eating grin.

The ship-wide intercom called everyone to life at six A.M. Earth Pacific time. "Rise to shine, boys and ladies!" Came Magnus' less than sweet and melodious voice. "Out of bed in fifteen minutes and in the hallway! NOW!"

Rusti moaned, rolled over and slipped off the bed. She and Bo stumbled around, bleary-eyed and mute.

Galvatron sat half up and sneered at the intercom. "What the Pitt is he doing?"

"Drills, Galvatron," Rusti groaned. "Started day before yesterday."

"Oh."

"Here, hold this for me, would ya?" Rusti handed him her bra while she slipped on her jeans, tied her hair back and snapped out her ragged shirt. "Thank you." She tied on her shoes. "You'll stay here till I get back, won't you?"

"Is that an order or a request?"

Rusti raised squinted eyes at him. "Galvatron, don't make me hurt you."

"Okay."

Everyone started a full mile jog a before three-quarters of them hit the floor in exhaustion. Rusti only vaguely heard their drill instructor's words. She followed everyone else's actions while her groggy head struggled to keep up.

They practiced one series of moves a hundred times before everyone was dismissed to breakfast and back to 'dirt work'. Rusti heard complaints from every side and level. After surviving attack on the Frostbite, she decided not to complain. But Rusti preferred learning fighting/defensive moves to exercises. At least with Dinobot Football, running was fun.

The day closed and Rusti returned to her rock-hard bunk and flopped on her pillow. "I miss my room," she moaned. Expecting a remark from Galvatron, she rolled in his direction and found him sitting silent, optics dim, face emotionless. She watched him a moment more. "What did you do today?"

He did not respond right away. His optics flickered to life and he stirred with a great intake of air. "We worked on the recycling water systems along Level Three. By the way, Mizz Witwicky, Cyclonus sends his regards and apologies."

Rusti dragged a smile over her weary face. "That's very nice, Galvatron. But I am never flying with him again."

"He's very good at it. Better than Starscream, I think."

"He's a jet, Galvatron. How could he not be good at flying?" Rusti gathered her pillow under her chin as her sore frame slowly relaxed.

"Ramjet was not very good at it."

"Really?"

Galvatron intensified his gaze on her. "Just because something is or does a certain... thing, does not mean they're very good at it, Mizz Witwicky." he read her confused expression. "Take Humans for example. Would you not say that some people are better at being Human than others?"

"Maybe, Galvatron. It just seems silly to be something and not do it well."

"Dancers."

"Eh?"

"Not all dancers are good at dancing. Not all painters paint well. Same thing with Transformers. Just because you can shift into a car does not mean you can drive well."

She smiled, now understanding. "So, are you good at being a Decepticon?"

He thought about it. "No. I'm good at being Galvatron. I don't seem to be capable of being anything else."

Day Three. Magnus' bellowing vocals filled everyone's quarters. Rise to shine. Dress. Hit the hall. Run. Bodies fell by the wayside, exhausted and annoyed.

Work on the gardens. Break for meals. Work again. Break for meals. Retire.

Rusti dreamed of shouting people, clamor and disarray. Memories of the sister cities, filled the silent moments. Rusti now thought of them as naught but but hollow images in her mind.

Day Four. Drills. Work. Break. Sleep. Three more days on top of that. By the end of the week, most people accustomed themselves to the regimen. Some formed partnerships or split into cliques.

At the beginning of the following week, the Kummya's staff handed everyone replicated, uncharged laser rifles. Some adults protested about children receiving them but drill instructors did not bend. Children caught goofing off with the weapons were severely disciplined with a two-mile run and kitchen duty.

"We are not doing this to give you a toy," One tough lady DI strolled among her charges. "You will learn to take these apart, clean them and put them back together until you can do it in your sleep. And that's before we teach you to shoot." Her eyes fell upon one particularly disruptive young man. "If you cannot be grown up enough to respect the weapon, then you will be assigned to change diapers."

His eyes blew wide.

So they dismantled the laser rifle; a Constellation West .19. It weight lightly with three adjustable settings and battery packs. The Constellation utilized charged electrical clips and fired short, hot bursts of negative power. Used more as a stun gun (and thereby safer for children) it still came lethal at high settings; capable of burning a nice crispy hole in someone's car door.

They broke for meal. Rusti stared at her tray and picked at the crackers. She missed Optimus even if he were not more than a call away.

"Better eat," her bunk mate warned. "They'll drag you off and pump you full of meds."

"No they won't," she muttered.

Bo snorted and rolled her eyes, signs of discontent grew in her day by day. She crawled out of bed last, showered longer and picked arguments with Ruby so they constantly shouted at each other.

Speaking of Ruby-"hey, Girl," she said to Rusti. She plopped in the seat beside her and rolled out her silverware. "What I'd not do for a real home cooked meal! Fried chicken or something off the Bar-B-"

Bo snapped, "would you just shut up?"

"What?" Ruby dared. You want me to start in on fried babies? Hu?" Ruby half stood but Rusti laid a hand on hers.

"Stop. Stop." she contacted Ruby's resentful eyes. "Just... she's just not feeling well-"

"On her period or something, that it, girl? Huh?"

"None of your fucking business, Ruby."

"Oh! But it's alright for you to be rude to me? You're all Miss Queen 'round here; _gotta take 'nuther shower,_" Ruby mocked with a raised pitch in her voice.

That annoying throbbing headache Rusti had not suffered in years struck up a nice home in her head. Her vision blurred while Bo shouted her response to Ruby's taunts.

"Piss on you, bitch! How about you find a nice hole in the wall and stick your head in it so your brains get sucked out!"

"Better that than getting stuck in a room with _you_!"

Rusti discreetly left the table as Ruby ended her insult with another foul word. Bo took her food tray and swaked it upside Ruby's head. With a scream of frustration, Ruby grabbed Bo's hair and the girls tried to grapple each other over the table.

Rusti did not stay to watch the ridiculous fight. She raced for their quarters. The half second she reached their tiny bathroom, everything in her stomach came up. Wilting before the toilet, Rusti heard the call to work.

A refugee's life sucked.

Ruby returned late and collapsed on her bunk. Rusti vaguely heard her but paid no attention to the woman's incessant sighs. After half an hour of flopping on her bunk and growling to herself, Ruby hung her head over the edge. "Ain't you even curious as to what happened? You did and took off an' all."

"No, Ruze," Rusti moaned. I'm not curious."

"An' why not?"

"Cuz it's between you and Bo."

Ruby flopped on her bunk again as if daring the bed to break. "I guess you don't give a damn about me, then," she pouted.

"No, Ruze. I'm just not well, that's all."

Ruby grunted. "Well, Girl, you outta be glad to hear Bo's been locked up for hittin' me."

Rusti couldn't care less. She did wonder where Galvatron disappeared to, however. Most likely the Decepticon kept himself busy, working hard and staying out of trouble. The young woman drifted to sleep while Ruby kept flopping on her bunk like a fish outside its tank.

_The ship considered itself a space tank. A big one. Thousands of voices filled its halls and rooms. People came, left, worked and slept. The __Sunset Kummya__ honestly did not mind the change to hydroponics. Nor did it mind operating as a human vessel. But there was something it did not appreciate. It's engines grinded under the unpleasant things._

Things? Things?

_Not things. Events? Circumstances?_

What?

Rusti rolled from her right side and stared at the bottom of Ruby's bunk. Her head pounded between an invisible hammer and an anvil. Her stomach burned and heaved and she almost did not make it to the bathroom again.

"Wha'?" Ruby moaned, half asleep. "You sick, girl?"

Rusti's stomach lurched and heaved until her eyes watered and nothing else came up. She sank to her knees, shaking. Ruby's voice rose and fell with demands, but Rusti could not answer even when Ruby trounced into the bathroom and shook her.

A few moments later an older woman entered and someone roughly forced Rusti off the floor and onto Bo's bed. They took her temperature, blood pressure, oxygen and white blood cell count.

"Well, frankly, I don't find anything wrong with you, Miss Witwicky." The old bird needled Rusti with suspicious eyes.

Rusti shivered and gathered the covers about her shoulders. She supposed they believed she faked her symptoms. And she might have convinced herself that had the old woman not taken a pen light and flashed it into Rusti's eyes. The young woman heaved again and vomited bile on the woman's pants and shoes.

The old hen lifted her right brow. "Okay. Good enough for me. Take her back to Zornoy."

Fortunately, Dr. Zornoy was on the Kummya, treating another patient suffering from acute tendinitis. He met Rusti, read her symptoms and checked her ears first.

"Are you allergic, Mizz Witwicky?"

"No," she murmured. The headache traveled down her spine and she slumped where she sat. The old woman spoke with a muffled and garbled voice.

The Sunset Kummya also sounded as though it were nauseated. Again, something about circumstance.

"Doctor..." Rusti said weakly. "You have to get me off the Kummya."

"Right you are, my dear," Zornoy snapped his fingers. You there, Galvazan!"

"Galvatron."

"Yes. Take up my patient here. We need to get her to the Crested Moon."

The Crested Moon

Stress.

"Nuh-uh." Rusti felt better as she lay in a quiet chamber. Galvatron sat in the corner, bored but composed.

"Yes. Yes and yes." the alien doctor insisted. He turned to Optimus. "so here you say she's suffered this before?"

The Autobot leader solemnly nodded. "She was very young at the time."

"Aye. I see. Well at that case, I leave her to something to eat, get some sleep. I'll be back in two days."

He left and Optimus knelt at her bedside. "Rusti," he mourned, "I'm so sorry. I simply did not think."

She nailed him crossly. "Stop it. I'm not dead. And I do not expect you to hover over me twenty-four-seven. I can handle myself. Besides, how do you know I wasn't just pretending so I could get on board the Crested Moon?"

"Because it's not in your nature," he replied evenly.

She peeled her gaze from him, unable to answer that. "Well... you have more important things than me to worry about. Besides, I have Galvatron to make fun of me." She smiled when her Decepticon charge softly grunted. "He's not going to sleep in the same room with me all the time, is he?"

"She's right!" Galvatron brightened. "I don't make a good pillow. And hers is too small. Can I sleep with you, instead?"

"Hey!" Rusti snapped, "back off, you big dork! He's _spoken for!_"

Optimus shook his head. "Sorry, Galvatron. I have no say in the matter. Can I get you a room of your own?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

Optimus turned to Rusti. "Can I?"

She slightly smiled. "Yes you can."

He relayed it to Galvatron: "Yes, I can." He moved to leave when her small warm hands caught him, tugging at his heart. Optimus knelt back, wishing he could spend more time with her. "Rusti..."

His soft voice blew through her and the young woman shivered. She stashed away thoughts not prevalent to the moment, no matter how her heat longed to spend more than a few scant moments with him. "Op-Optimus the um, the Sunset Kummya... there's something wrong."

"What?"

"I couldn't get a clear-I couldn't hear it very well. I guess I was too sick. But it was complaining an awful lot."

"I'll look into it."

Rusti heard. 'Sweetheart' in his voice, though he did not openly speak it. She relaxed and fluttered her eyes, batting back tears. [_I miss you._]

_[Miss you too, Love. Give me a little more time to get things organized. I promise to take a whole day off._]

Rusti smiled as her eyes closed for a long sleep. Prime drew the blanket about her then turned to his companion. "Come along, Galvatron. We have some snooping to do."

Rusti woke four hours later. Her head ached but not at the level it did on the Kummya. She mentally searched the Crested Moon's personality and found it settled and quiet. Rusti sighed. "Computer," she called, "where is Optimus Prime?"

Cartography. Redial and Alto bickered on navigational pathways while Optimus compared notes on his digipad and adjusted controls on the holographic projections before them. Rusti stepped just inside the doorway as Redial rerouted a course change to the right.

"There!" Alto declared, "See that?" The argument died. Redial and Prime stared at a blank blotch on the screen

"What is that?" Redial asked.

Alto shrugged. "It's neither accepting or rejecting energy. Energy flows around it. Yet you're saying it's not a singularity complex or a vortex."

"Cloaking device?" Optimus asked.

Alto teetered her head side to side. "Might be. But not the type of which I'm familiar. The energy signatures are weird."

"Coordinates?" Optimus waited while Alto and Redial triangulated the area. Prime took the moment to settle his gaze upon Rusti.

The young lady looked guilty. [_my timing is bad. I'm sorry.]_

[_I'm sorry we can't seem to get a break. You can meet me on the bridge._] Optimus' optics dimmed.

"Found it!" Alto declared. "About one and a half parsecs from us. And, Commander, it's producing energy."

"Then we are looking at a force field." Prime deduced. "How far is it off our course to Yolthanis Three?"

"About two parsecs off the path," Redial reported.

"Optimus!" Alto gasped. "I just received word from the Hannibal's Mark. They've picked up what looks like an incoming object!"

Prime nodded, grateful for the distraction. "I'll be on the bridge." He stepped out and transformed. Rusti helped herself to the passenger's side and sat quietly.

"I hope whatever's out there is not a detriment." Optimus confided. "The last thing we need is more trouble."

"You can always just move away from it," Rusti weakly suggested. "Or you could blow it up."

"Not always a good plan, Rusti." They landed on the bridge where Hardhead bickered quietly with Duros. Linear greeted Prime with a digipad. "We're just now receiving datum from the Mark, Sir. Blaster is currently attempting communication on all hailing frequencies. Visuals uploading."

Alto arrived on the bridge as the view screen switched. A huge rectangular ship ghosted through space, half lit by a gaseous cloud and its own exterior lighting. Ice and dust caked its hull and smothered any origin markings.

Alto claimed her place at navigation and scan controls. "Negative readings on oxygen levels or life forms, Sir. Blaster reports no readings on either organic or mechanical living things."

"Hm. Is it empty?"

She relayed the question. "No, Sir." Alto answered after another pause. "Just nothing alive... organically-speaking."

"Give me ship-to-ship com, Alto."

"Aye, Sir."

"And tell Redial to report to duty. Now."

"Aye, Sir."

Gryph's voice warmed the bridge with her throaty voice: "Hey, Optimus. Seems we have something of a mystery on our hands. Shall I take a look?"

"Yes, Gryph. But don't limit your team just to Autobots. Report back in six hours."

"Gladly." a smile sang in her voice, clear and eager.

Optimus looked to Rusti again. She smile lightly as Redial stepped onto the bridge. "Alto," Optimus directed, "Inform the other commanders to keep their channels clear."

Redial answered instead. "We'll do, Optimus."

Alto shot him an acidic snarl. "He was talking to _me_."

"Well, I'm here now and I'll handle it," Redial argued with condescending tones.

"No, you won't." Alto carried out the orders without another word. Redial stared, confused and seethed silently.

Rusti slipped off the bridge and ventured the corridor toward the mess hall. The argument on the bridge left her with chills. She did not often witness blatant hostility between Autobots-that is, directly in front of their leader. Although, technically, Redial was a Paratron.

Lockout and Eclipse waved hello as they passed her. Rusti gave them a warm smile. She paused and watched them disappear into the bridge. Now she thought on it, spats between Autobots had slowly increased. Something changed in the collective dynamic among them and the young lady wondered if Optimus and Roddi noticed it too. Rusti abandoned her musings when a set of familiar metal footfalls caught up with her.

"Excuse me, Miss," came Optimus' voice, "Is the walkway beside you taken?"

She paused, slowly blinked and lifted her chin. "Not as long as there aren't any Decepticons dangling around."

"I missed you."

"Shh!" she hushed. "Don't say stuff like that. The Autobots will hear you and think of some way or reason to steal the moment."

"Right." he agreed reluctantly. "And you were going to mention a matter I needed to look into?"

"Yes. The gardens."

He stared. "The gardens?"

"The gardens, Optimus-the hydroponics on the Sunset Kummya?"

"Yes. What of them?"

"Well, they have soil. They have water. They even have ultra violet light."

"Yes."

"They don't have any fertilizer. Something you and Roddi probably didn't think about?" He said nothing, searching her eyes, clueless. "Optimus," she continued. "You do know about fertilizer, right?"

"Of course. I used it in my own gardens. I simply don't understand why it's a problem."

"We don't have any."

"It was supposed to simply be manufactured, Rusti. Fertilizer is just nitrogen-"

"No, Optimus. You cannot use Human nitrates to grow Human food."

"Ohhhh..." his great shoulders fell, his optics searched for a place of escape as embarrassment caused his optics to darken. "Oh boy."

"Yeah."

"I should have known that."

"Well... you and Roddi were a little preoccupied."

"Hmm. Well... come with me. We'll have to discuss this with Perceptor."

The Alien Space Craft

Gryph silently bemoaned her duty as commander of the Hannibal's Mark. She yearned to explore the derelict ship, to step into the unknown. But she could not leave her ship. The Hannibal's Mark was one of few vessels fully capable of protecting other ships such as the Spiral Star. She extended the opportunity to Kup, who commanded the Vertical Horizon. But mired in a billion responsibilities, the former security officer could not take command of an away team, either; not while they had a saboteur lurking among them. He submitted the offer to Convoy.

Convoy proposed the opportunity to her former second-in-command, Cloudstreaker. Crosshairs, Arcee, Fineliner, Tortus and Highbrow made up the rest of their team.

"Keep it tight and brief," folks," Convoy told her team. "We want to gather as much info in the shortest period of time. I will remain in one location. The rest of you spread into a half-mile radius only."

They split into teams of two and spread in three directions. Arcee tagged and lagged behind Cloudstreaker. At first Fort Horizon's former second-in-command did not notice her companion's languid participation until they encountered a room stocked floor to ceiling with huge, sturdy metal crates.

"Wait a minute," she called, "I'm registering sealed organic materials." She held a moment then two before searching Arcee for affirmation. "Arcee?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you find anything different?"

"Oh..." Arcee produced her scanner and regarded the room with distracted interest. "I'm getting readings of various proteins. There's complex sugar molecules and something resembling wood fiber." She sent a befuddled gaze to Cloudy. "What sort of place was this?"

Cloudstreaker shook her head. "This can't be right, though. The Hannibal's Marks' long-range scanners did not pick up organic matter.

Arcee lifted her optics. "Maybe the dust outside the ship has something to do with it.

Cloudy only shrugged. They navigated through one room then another. Each contained the same heavily sealed cargo. Not once did the femmes encounter people-robotic or otherwise.

"_Convoy to away team. Ten-minute status report."_

"All clear, Captain," Cloudstreaker announced first. "No sign of crew, alive or dead. But Arcee and I have found stacks of crates containing organic materials. Possibly supplies."

"_Copy that, Cloudstreaker. Wait. Did you say 'organic'?"_

"Aye, Captain. Complex organic material, but defiantly organic."

"_Copy that_," Convoy acknowledged. "_Continue recon_."

The ladies tapped down two flights of stairs and entered another dark, cold room. Great blocks of dried ice contained slabs of meat, vegetables, weapons and oddly enough, furniture.

"This is just strange!" Cloudstreaker grimaced in disbelief. "You know Ultra Magnus and I saw similar stuff on Cratis when we rescued the Cold Refractor. The crew were locked into some sort of stasis. Doesn't seem like a good way to travel through space, does it?"

Arcee gazed at the monolith casing containing tree saplings. A series of monitors bolted into the ice indicated the integrity of the frail organic matter. Ah, if only it were possible to put Daniel in such a state! At least 'popsicle Daniel' could not harass her.

Cloudstreaker's hand laid on Arcee's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Arcee. I know I'm not the brightest bird in the batch. But I can tell something's bugging you."

Arcee's visual focus drifted elsewhere, ashamed. She failed to keep her problems off her face. At first she didn't want to say anything. "I ...I talked about it with Optimus before we left Cratis. But he and Rodimus have either been too busy or too sick to do much more than hold us together. I, um..." she forced a smile, "...have a pest problem."

Cloudstreaker slowly nodded once. "Um,...Daniel... it's Wik-Wikitus?"

Arcee lit up, amused by Cloudy's mispronunciation. "Yes!" But just as fast as Arcee smiled, her face and shoulders drooped. "Oh, but you won't tell anyone, will you?" It's-I know it's ridiculous that someone like me has been... affected so deeply by someone so... so..." Her optics latched onto the ice monolith.

Cloudstreaker took her hands. "Everybody knows that you and Daniel Wik-Wickitus were a Headmaster. That's not a secret. And it's no secret he's turned into some sort of clot. I saw him attack his daughter. I thought Rodimus was going to do something worse than kill him."

Arcee shrugged, yet unable to look her coworker in the optic. "He may do so yet." Arcee tried to lift her face into a smile but failed. "He...Daniel floods my datatablets and digipads with..." she paused. "He's just mean. And no matter what I do, he gets around my security codes, passwords and actually crashed one of my pads."

"That's not right." Cloudstreaker said gently. "Have you said anything to anyone?"

Arcee scoffed, exasperated. "How could I? Look at us! We're the size of buildings to them and yet I don't know how to deal with this! I used to love Daniel. I loved the child and when I think of him, it's always the boy I think of, not the Human monster. I just wish he'd leave me alone."

"Oh, Hon!" Cloudy laid a hand on Arcee's shoulder. "Sounds to me like you need a gal-pal." she read sadness in Arcee's expression and decided to take her offer one step further. "You know, I happen to know how to trace rudimentary transmission signals. I _might_ be able to help you with some of those pesky messages."

Arcee hesitated only a moment. With pleading optics, she handed Cloudstreaker her scanner and pad. Expectation gave her enough strength to compose herself.

Cloudstreaker read the digipad and winced at the latest messages from Daniel. His beastly letters routed into Arcee's pad frequency from an undisclosed source. There was, however, one small clue. _A d/:-coma_D _docked the top portion of the readout. Cloudstreaker scrolled down the page and balked at the crude, unrepeatable message Daniel sent Arcee.

The Dancing Siren

Optimus and Rusti politely waited on the scientist. Perceptor attended a patient whose initial emergency repair work turned haywire and gave the poor Paratron an awful tick. Rusti made the most of their time reiterating her experience with Bo and Ruby. Optimus listened as he signed incoming reports by digipad.

"Survival never guarantees luxury or happiness, Rusti."

"I've sort of figured that one out," she replied sharply. "You said we're headed for Yolthanis Three."

"You'll love it there. They grow the best flowers."

"And is that why you chose to regroup there? Visual therapy?" She read the smile in his optics; a hint of mischief.

"I have 'visual therapy' sitting in front of me."

She blushed for him. "Flattery will get you a stip show."

"Will that include a song and dance?"

She considered that. "The dance is extra."

Optimus fell silent and still. Rusti guessed someone contacted him over an inter-com channel. Her eyes wandered around the lab. Crates and tool boxes refrigerator and heating units lined another. It dawned on her how much a neat freak Perceptor really was. A large view screen contained row upon row of Autobot writ in a tiny script.

_Unscheduled, unauthorized trespassing._

Rusti blinked and flinched. Where did _that_ come from? She searched the corridor as though expecting her answer to appear on the walls.

Perceptor approached as he rubbed his hands clean with a stained towel. "Ah, I was trying to recall the reason for your visit, Prime."

"The hydroponics on board the Kummya."

"Ah. Yes. Er, what of them?"

"They need nitrates." Optimus answered. Rusti thought he tried to keep the 'guilty-as-charged' out of his voice.

"Well, we'd just use Human 'resources' for such a dilemma," Perceptor said it as though it were a song.

Rusti rolled her eyes. "Excuse me," She smiled when both robots nailed her with attentive optics. "I don't mean to sound condescending, but how could the two of you have lived on Earth as long as you have and never realized that 'people pee' is never used in food production?"

Perceptor feigned smugness."I have never explored the science of botany nor have I had the time to tinker with herbology. Autobots do not use or need C12H2O11."

Perceptor used the chemical formula for sugar to throw her off. But Rusti already had chemistry and followed him just fine. "Okay. Well, um, then, we're going to need to come up with a substitute. Otherwise without fertilizer or mulch, the plants will starve to death."

Perceptor glowered at both of them and folded his arms. It did not take a genius to read he had better things to do. Rusti subtly took a step then two or three backwards. "Er... I think the only botanist we have is already on the Kummya. Perhaps we'll discuss that problem there."

"An ingenious application, Miss Witwicky. Please excuse me." Perceptor turned about face and retreated deeper into his lab.

Rusti and Prime stared after him. Rusti tried to think of another solution. "You know, Optimus, it might be possible to find nitrates in the asteroid belt. After all, isn't an asteroid thought to be the remnants of a failed planet?"

A call via second sub-space lines spared Optimus the necessity of explanation. He answered the message and turned to his love. "The away team has returned ahead of schedule. Shall we see what they've picked out from the store?"

The Hannibal's Mark

Galvatron tagged along but had little to say. Rusti was sorry he had little to nothing to do except follow her around. Were he a child, it'd clearly be a matter of reading, school work or some sort of game. Still, unlike most people when bored, Galvatron refrained from frowning. It pleased Rusti that he maintained such good poise. That was until she, Optimus and Galvatron entered the exam room where Rodimus instinctively went for his rifle.

Galvatron's expression curled into a Cheshire grin and Rusti inwardly moaned, bracing for the war of words. Rodimus withdrew hand from gun and neutralized his expression.

"Well! Look what the roachbot dropped on us!"

"Something good looking." Galvatron replied smoothly. "It obviously knew you were lonely, R.P. and sent me to rescue you."

The blank look on Roddi's face could not have been more priceless. "Did... no, you did not! Did you just call me R.P.?"

"Not initially, Galvatron answered. He pointed to Optimus.

Rodimus followed the pointed finger to the Head Hancho and narrowed his optics in displeasure. Optimus, meanwhile found immense interest in the salvage brought in by the away team. Rodimus approached the senior Prime and stared. Optimus pretended not to notice until he reached for a digitablet.

He acted as though nothing happened. "What?"

"You're an instigator! R.P.?"

"Ridiculously Primitive?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

"Romance Police?"

"Not funny."

"Recycled Pinhead?"

Rodimus held his hand up. "I am not speaking to you for the rest of the day."

As Rodimus retreated to stand next to Cloudstreaker, Convoy, Tortus and Fineliner gathered about the table loaded with alien artifacts.

Optimus attended, light with amusement and fascinated at the new find. "Report."

Convoy took a thick digipad from Tortus' hands and gave it to Prime. "Well, as you can see, we've found a few useable items. It seems the ship's crew has completely and inexplicably disappeared, leaving a vessel of materials obviously meant for colonizing."

"Did you find the ship's logs?"

"Sort of. The language is not in our databanks."

Optimus glanced at the pad then examined the number of materials in front of him: plants, seeds, tools, books, photographs and medical equipment.

Rodimus neared the table and poked at a package pictographically labeled as fruit tree seeds. "You know what gives me the willies about this is how all this stuff is in such pristine condition. If the crew encountered pirates, there'd be none of this left."

Optimus nodded. "Almost as though they were transported right off the ship."

"Yeah!" Rodimus paused half a beat. "I don't think we should touch any of this until we know what we're dealing with. Convoy, scour that ship for more info. We'll put someone to work here to test this stuff."

Rusti turned to Galvatron. "Excuse me, may I please have a lift to the table?" Galvatron obliged her with a smile. Rusti glanced at Rodimus who watched the Decepticon with predatory optics.

Rusti picked her way along the length of the table, feeling like a Barbie doll. She peered through glass cases containing vials of colorful liquids. Tools, material for clothing and a few odd pieces of furniture covered the table. Then Rusti found what she hoped

Convoy's party picked up; a computer. The good thing was the species in question were apparently smaller than Transformers, but larger than Humans. The objects, while large, weren't overwhelming and unreachable.

Optimus, who still sifted through various away team reports, heard her open the latches containing the unexplored machine. "Rusti, what are you doing"

The machine was about as big as her whole body and she grinned, amused. She released the final latch and the personal data controller (computer) unfolded on its own. The consol lit with bright blue buttons in a triangular shape while the 'screen' floated above in a holographic projection.

Rusti laid her hands on the consol and closed her eyes. She 'read' the machine operations before looking to Cloudstreaker. "This uses binary. It might be possible to connect this to the ship's computer and translate from there. But um..." she scanned a little deeper. "This is a child education tool. It can't tell you what happened on the ship."

Cloudstreaker stared while Convoy scrutinized the alien computer first then the Human interpreter. "You figured all that just by touching it?"

Optimus smiled lightly outside but inside he beamed. [_Will you marry me?]_

Rusti struggled not to crack up with laughter. She coughed into her elbow to maintain poise.

Galvatron stepped up and stared into the holographic projected shapes of a triangle, a circle and a square. He too stared at Rusti. "Will you teach me how to do that?"

"No," she answered firmly. "I don't want you to learn to do funny things to Roddi."

"I do not need to lay my hands on him to do _that,_ Mizz Rusti. In case you've not noticed, it'd does not take much to piss him off."

Rodimus glared. "That's not true."

"No?"

"No," Rodimus confirmed. "But I'll make an exception in your case."

Galvatron leaned back toward Rusti. "I think he's warming up to me." He gave Roddi another glance. "Well... _thawing out _might be a better description."

"Sorry, Galvatron," Rodimus' voice dropped to unamused. "You're not pretty enough for that sort of attention."

Galvatron stared, clearly confused.

Convoy broke the moment with an impatient frown. "Commander," she addressed both Primes, "with your permission, I'd like to keep the computer device for analysis. I can leave Cloudstreaker at your disposal if you'd like."

Tortus examined the frozen plants and seeds before noticing Rodimus' stare. He read an unspoken question in his leader's optics. "There may be enough compatibility between this alien botanical variety and the Earth vegetation," he suggested. Tortus produced a small datatablet from subspace and swiftly calculated his thesis. "Unfortunately, it will take several days to find the absolute answer. We'll need to plant the seeds in order to be certain."

Optimus privately liked the idea of a delay. "Exactly how many days are we looking at, Tortus?"

"You cannot rush plant growth, Optimus Prime. The seed must soften and feel comfortable before germinating. The sprout needs to take in nourishment and build a reliable root system before it can move above the security of the soil. The leaves must learn how to use light and mature. A solid time line might be as long as fourteen days, if we're lucky. And this flora, coming from an entirely different planet, may have extra secrets. You just can't assume."

Optimus stared at the array of mystery items before him, debating. He did not need Tortus to tell him about gardening. He calculated it may take several days for Gryph and her crew to complete their research. The fleet would remain stationary in the asteroid field a little longer. "Very well. Take the seeds to the Mozart. I don't want any possible cross-contamination that could end in disaster. No further exploration of the alien ship until we know what we're dealing with."

Optimus put Grotesque in charge of the Crested Moon for the rest of the day. He left strict orders not to be disturbed-even if another ship were to self-destruct or implode.

Optimus formally invited 'Miss Rusti' to attend a meeting on the observation deck. But said nothing more about it.

Thinking it had something to do with Galvatron and Cyclonus, Rusti gathered her brown, borrowed, tattered EDC jacket, ran a brush through her hair, bound it and left fifteen minutes early.

Upon arriving, she did not see an extra long, Autobot-sized table. No one occupied the room, not even Galvatron. But Optimus stood toward the far-end of the room. The lights dimmed so the starscape outside the huge pane of windows glowed and glittered majestically. Rusti's heart skipped a beat.

"Miss Rusti?" Optimus said sweetly. "Dinner for two?"

Her cheeks burned so that her skin was as red as her hair. Her lips tingled. Rusti stepped in and the doors closed quietly. She dropped off the jacket as she neared the step-down area. Optimus changed the room so that a dias rose, bearing a table and comfortable chair before the large picture windows.

The young lady laid a hand on her chest as a shiver coursed through her body. The table, small enough for two, contained a small dinner, a lovely blue table cloth and next to it sat a flagon of energon. The biggest smile lit her face. "I don't know what to say," she said in a humble, quiet voice.

"Then I did it correctly," Optimus replied in kind. With a finger under her hand, he led her to the table and helped her to the chair. He settled on the floor several steps down so they were now face-to-face rather than she looking up, him looking down.

Rusti let her eyes feast on the setting before smiling. Sitting back, she crossed her arms and stared. The smile did not leave. "How was your day?"

"In a word: typical." he replied smoothly. "Rusti," his voice dipped; a verbal massage. "I wanted to show you an apology rather than simply saying it. You have a right to be angry with me for sending you to Concentric City."

Rusti's eyes swept the skyscape then returned to him. "I'm not mad about that, Optimus. I will say that I hope you'll not make me ride with Cyclonus ever again. Bronco horses don't hold a finger compared to his flying. But the Inoux attack was not your fault. However... going to Mars was a bad idea, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Optimus affirmed humbly. "Going to Mars was a bad idea."

"And the rendevous on Cratis was not so brilliant, either, was it?"

"It was not the prettiest idea." he concurred. "The plan was set up years before you were born. Had I not been quite so distracted, I might have considered asking other sources for a better location. But sometimes, when the rug gets pulled out from under you, the best thing to do is start with something familiar."

She read his expression, searching for forgiveness. "Well, it's not your fault. You and Roddi have been through hell. I don't know how you put up with so much. But I love you. And I missed you."

Optimus slightly bowed his head, optics diverted to his right. "I hope so, Rusti." he said softly. He gazed back with a sad light in his face. "Because unrequited love is a painful thing to live with."

The Dancing Siren

Optimus gave Galvatron clearance to visit Cyclonus. Perigee fussed over Cyclonus' chart and asked him if he needed anything three times before Galvatron eyed her with cold optics. She left and he settled into a chair beside the berth. Cyclonus finished his report from Concentric City and turned to his life-long friend.

"You need not worry, Galvatron. I am functional and at the moment, adequately comfortable."

"Perhaps, Cyclonus," Galvatron answered. "But I am bored and lonely."

Cyclonus knew what he could say to that but chose not to. How is the girl?"

"Rusti? Ornery." he watched Cyclonus' lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

The Lieutenant tapped the digipad with his thumbs.

"I cannot figure out why the Inoux let us go. Clearly they have superior firepower. I almost cannot outrun them-"

"Cyclonus, what makes you think they let you go? According to Rusti, they fired on you."

"Yes. Apparently before Ultra Magnus came to the rescue. They were-" Cyclonus cut his sentence off and Galvatron followed his friend's line of sight to the doorway and Rodimus who leaned against the post like a spying teacher.

"I'd ask what was going on, Galvatron, but I'm afraid I'd not like the answer."

Galvatron stood, his game face in place. "Rodimus Prime! What, by the nine galaxies, brings you here? Very nice of you to visit my disabled friend."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Step outside. I wanna talk to you."

"Heh!" Galvatron grinned, knowing the conversation wasn't about talking. He winked at Cyclonus who looked concerned. "I'll visit later," he promised.

Galvatron found Rodimus standing in a corridor three levels down out of 'earshot' and most sensor ranges. Just to be annoying, Galvatron leaned against the wall, copying Rodimus' posture. "It's nice to have a tet-a-tet with my fans, Rodimus, but did it have to be in such a remote location?"

"Don't you _ever_ just shut up?" Roddi's optics darkened.

"I suppose so," Galvatron shrugged. "But I've never tried."

"You know, Galvatron, I don't know what you did or said to initially gain Optimus' trust, but I assure you it won't work with me."

"I hope so, Rodimus. You're not the same Prime."

Rodimus pushed himself from the wall. "Do you think you're cute? This isn't some game, Galvatron! You're playing with someone else's mind, their spark. I gotta say that this is a new low for you."

"No one is playing anything, Rodimus."

"Bullshit."

"No," Galvatron insisted. "I did not come here with dishonorable intentions."

"You speak of honor?"

"Oh, here we go," Galvatron moaned.

"You are a _Decepticon_. What could you possibly know about honor? How many lives did you ruin, Galvatron? How many people died by your hand? How many more died as a result of your malevolence?"

"Guilty as charged, Rodimus. You are right."

"Are you trying to placate me, now?"

"Well, I suppose I could deny it all; tell you that I'm not that same person. But since my name is Galvatron, clearly, I am that person. I should have died when Skorponok and the other Decepticons blew me to pieces. But I didn't. So here I am, in all my dark and sinister glory, all the more to annoy you with... RP."

"You call me that one more time and I'll kick your aft!"

Galvatron grinned. "You're just looking for a way, a time and an excuse to kick my aft!"

"DAMN STRAIGHT!"

"Then what are you waiting for, Rodimus? Come and get it!"

Rodimus charged then in mid-movement, pulled back, jerking his body away from the target. "Na-uh!" he shouted. "I know exactly what you're planning, Pal!"

"Really?" if Galvatron had eyelids, he be blinking innocently.

Rodimus folded his arms and cast his face in stone irritation. "If I hit you, you go to Rusti and get me into trouble. I'm not falling for that."

"Oh, nonsense!"Galvatron scoffed. "You cannot tell me you fear a Human more than me! Come on, Rodimus! I'm the monster!" Just for emphasis-and a private joke, Galvatron growled.

Rodimus was not laughing.

Galvatron rolled his head in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way." He threw the first punch.

Rodimus kissed flooring and suddenly wondered why he tried so hard to instigate a fight. "Ow," he grunted.

Galvatron stood over him, fists on hips. "Come on, Wussy-boy. Don't make me start monologuing."

A devil's grin swept across Prime's face and he kicked Galvatron's shins. Galvatron buckled on top and they rolled in a loose wrestle. Rodimus wrapped his hands about Galvatron's neck, thumbs along the mandible.

"You've been asking for it since you got here."

"You're just jealous because my smart remarks are better than yours!" Galvatron shoved his head against Roddi's and rolled away. He bounced up, turned his rear to Roddi and wiggled. "Woohoo!" he sang.

"Now you're making fun of me." Rodimus snarled.

"No. Not yet." Galvatron flew above the Autobot's head and floated on his side, helm supported by his hand "_Now_ I'm making fun of you. Autobots can't fly, can't jump and in your case, can't _fight_."

Roddi's goat was got and he leapt high, grabbed Galvatron by the feet and yanked.

Galvatron yelped with surprise and lost his balance. The two hit the floor with a not-so-graceful crash. Rodimus pinned his wily opponent to the wall first then called up his weapon. "Well, I still say once a Decepticon always a dickhead."

Galvatron lifted his optics from charged weapon to unhappy Autobot leader. "You know what your real problem is, Rodimus?"

"Educate me."

"You're upset that you have no legitimate excuse to kick my aft. I'm not all sinister and mean and it sticks in your craw like a glob of bad oil. All those years of having nothing but Quintesson ooze to mop up have left you a little trigger happy. And I'm sorry that after looking forward to kicking the smelt out of me, you find you really don't have a reason to do so-"

"I don't trust you, Galvatron. And in my datatablet, that's reason enough."

"Oh, come on!" Galvatron groaned. "You're not telling me that somewhere in that squishy-soft little Autobot spark of yours you're not wishing that the Decepticons could be _nice_ for once? You know... peace and good will in the universe?"

"I look at you, Galvatron and all I see is the cold gleam of a white monster. I know that under that powerful remade frame vibrates the spark of the Slag Maker. I hear the screams and cries of millions of Autobots. I grew up watching in untold horror as one city then another fell under Decepticon rule. Make no mistake, _Megatron_, I know you. I know who and what you are. And you cannot tell me that you can just roll over and change into Mister Decepti-Goody-Two-Shoes. I don't buy it."

Galvatron stared at Rodimus' angry, ugly expression. He calmly pushed Rodimus' gun away without losing optical contact. "Tell me... _Hot Rod_ when did you die and grow up? Was it the moment of Optimus' death? Was it the moment you realized you _had_ to be the Chosen? Or was it the moment you learned to hate?"

Rodimus could not move. Too angry to let go, too upset to pull the damned trigger.

"I know what it's like," Galvatron continued, "The slow burning fire of disgust. Disgust with your own weakness. Facing a future wrought with grief, frustration and fear. You try to turn away, turn it into something less than it is. But eventually, all the distress, the death and suffering eats you alive. Your judgement came in sorrow. Mine, by pain."

Galvatron inched closer to Roddi's audio: "you have a right to hate me. No matter how I've changed. Because neither of us can change the past."

The Crested Moon

Rusti lay quietly beside Optimus. They talked for hours. The subjects they covered melded from home sickness to a few stories about Rusti's grandfather to reports Optimus read regarding the destruction of other Autobot fortress-cities. They talked until she drifted to sleep. Not long thereafter, he too fell to gentle darkness.

Now Rusti lay on a makeshift bed on the cold floor, a pillow under her head. She stared out the observation deck windows into the great cosmos. She absent-mindedly caressed Optimus' arm while her mind wandered from thought to memory. In the distance, the Cold Refractor floated; as serene a view as a lone sailboat upon calm waters. She thought how her past seemed so surreal now; as though her life and home on Earth were nothing but a fading dream. While at present, her life was not easy by any measure, Rusti counted herself better off than most refugees. Certainly they were not starving or lacked medical treatment. Most children attended a makeshift school in the evening hours.

But the situation as a whole produced instability. The instability created an air of uncertainty. That uncertainty often produced fear among the beleaguered refugees. Most Autobots who survived one war or another on Cybertron took the 'challenge' in stride, making the most of what they had in the time of crisis.

Rusti wasn't so sure she handled it well. Being homeless drilled holes into her and filled her with a sense of displacement; she belonged nowhere. At least her concern for Optimus and Roddi grounded the young lady enough to see her to the end of the day. They were all homeless and vulnerable. Not one of those races who worked and traded with the Autobots stepped up to help. Not one except Lunarphyte's ambassador.

Clearly true friendship and loyalty could not be bought even in business and politics.

Rusti narrowed her eyes. It ticked her off to remember all the other nations and planets to whom the Autobots extended aid. Why wouldn't at least one person or planet outside Ambassador Koontah offer assistance? Were they all cowards?

Rusti thought of the Inoux. Maybe they were the very reason.

She drew a deep, cold breath and lightly touched her lips to the warm smooth surface of Optimus' metal. The only peace he found came in sleep. But as he recently confessed, his rest often came with nightmares. Fragments of memories twisted into dreams of things he could not describe.

She ached for him.

_Unscheduled, unauthorized trespassing._

Rusti lifted her eyes to the ceiling, listening carefully. The 'voice' came distant but familiar.

_Second time. Unauthorized. Do not break the lock._

That was not the Crested Moon. Rusti propped herself on her elbows. Where did she hear that before?

_Unscheduled, unauthorized trespassing._

"...the Kummya?" she whispered. "Optimus," Rusti gently called. "Hey. Love? The Kummya said there's an intruder." Rusti sadly watched as the Autobot leader, who used to be so alert, so ready for anything, sluggishly sat up and covered his optics.

"Where, exactly?" he asked with effort.

The Sunset Kummya

Littlefield eyed everyone like an irritated cat ready to kill. Drox, her first officer, leisurely scanned for residual energy signs then shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I simply am not getting any readings."

Littlefield rolled her eyes. Dark circles on her face indicated lack of sleep contributing to her less-than-amiable mood. She scowled at Prime. "Where did you say you got this information?"

"I can't disclose that. But I am confident the information is accurate."

Drox scoffed. "Well, my equipment says otherwise. So if you'll excuse me, I have another assignment to attend."

Rusti waited at the end of the hallway, hands in her EDC-issued jacket. She rolled her eyes. _[Is truth?_] she asked the Kummya.

_Event verified by theta-thermal scan. Floor panel twenty-six._

Drox turned to leave and Rusti swiftly joined them. "Excuse me," she called. "But you're scanning the wrong area."

Drox scowled, drilling her with his optics. "Excuse me..._ ma'am_. But my equipment is not lying to me."

Rusti returned his stone-icy glare with one of her own. "Floor panel twenty-six. Check the wield points with a theta thermal scan..._sir._"

He stared at her until Optimus crossed his arms. "Drox? Are you going to stand there all day?"

"No, sir." he snarled in turn. The Paratron located panel twenty-six and sure enough, the hand-scanner's alarm called everyone's attention. Drox shook his head. "I don't see how this is possible. The ship's scanners should have picked it up."

Littlefield gave the panel a suspicious glare. "Not if the action took place while the computer was down for maintenance."

Drox nodded in agreement. "I'll look into it, Captain."

"Negative," Lakendra Littlefield responded defensively. "I'm in command. It's _my_ responsibility. _You_," she directed at Rusti, "can we have a word?"

Optimus remained behind to keep an optic on the workers.

Littlefield led Rusti into a small, secluded room filled with crates and crates of toilet paper. The captain secured the door behind them and folded her arms. "Explain."

"Explain what?"

"Don't play Snow White with me, little girl. I want to know who told you about the problem."

"No one told-your ship told me. And don't call me Snow White."

"What do you mean the ship told you?"

"I can hear the Autobot ships talk. They don't talk to me, but I hear-"

"You mean the computer?"

"No. The computer controls the ship functions-like a train. But the physical ship itself has its own personality. They are, after all, made by Transformers."

Littlefield weighed the revelation. "Can you speak to it?"

Rusti nodded. "It's a little crude. This isn't exactly something I do on a regular basis."

"Good. Well, maybe you can help us hunt down other potential problems."

Rusti gazed out the corners of her eyes. "Such as?"

Littlefield shook her head, lined her lips. "Can't get the water system going. Can't figure out what's wrong. It'd eliminate at lot of guess work if you'd ask the Kummya what's going on."

Rusti nodded in consent. "But you'll have to put with Galvatron."

"I do not have anything against Galvatron unless he starts raving and shoots everyone."

The Dancing Siren

Sideswipe stirred from shutdown. His customary corner radiated warmth from his own body heat. Compared to the rest of the room, it was cozy. All lights glowed dimly to conserve energy and keep Sunstreaker from overload. One soft light blessed the birth on which Sunny's disabled chassis lay. But First Aid made extra sure all lighting remained indirect, even during repair work. Sunny had neither strength nor capacity to deal with anything too loud, too bright, too hot or cold. Even touching him too much upset his ability to respond to treatment.

Sunny hummed. Sideswipe listened carefully. His brother's voice-what there was of it-vibrated clipped and cracked. But the remnants and fragments of a song spouted through. It was a song only Sideswipe recognized; an old, overused tune; one he never liked.

Sideswipe turned and hesitated to be extra sure. "Sun?" his own voice pathetically cracked and spat with a portion of static. "Sunny?" Sideswipe turned, stiff and aching from hours to days from lack of movement. He slowly pushed off the floor, walking at first like a tree, slow and graceless. He approached the berth which resembled more a large water pan with vital fluids partially covering Sunny's broken and incomplete form.

Sideswipe could not decide if his brother's survival was a miracle or a horrible form of torture. Certainly Sideswipe did not want his brother-half his own spark-to die. But seeing Sunny in such a pitiful, inglorious state was more than he could handle.

Sunstreaker hummed again, his vocalizer cracked at the high notes and vibrated badly with the low ones. He stared at nothing, his mind drifted along the valleys and plateaus of his memories.

"Sunny?" Sideswipe said cautiously. "Sunny? Why do you hum that tune? You an' me...we've not ever talked about that place for hundreds of years-even before Earth." Sideswipe smiled to himself, though the smile came insipid and trembled. "Maybe you're getting better, huh? You and me; we'll be road racing again soon. You and me, Sunny. The Terrible Two. Magnus' Twin Bane. It just hasn't been the same without you, Sunny. Primus-damn I miss you! I-I can't seem to pull myself together. I can't function without you. I know you can't wait to get out of here. You will. I know."

"No."

Sideswipe almost did not hear it. "Whaddya mean 'no'? Are you getting all punk on me?" Sideswipe snorted but inwardly, he leaped for joy. Maybe Sunny's defiance was a good sign. "Coping an attitude with me! After all I've suffered...too..."

Sunny's attention drifted and he hummed again. The same dreadful tune rang eerily in Sideswipe's audios. Sideswipe shuddered and backed off, confused. Perhaps the ordeal had damaged his brother mentally. Yeah, that had to be it. But, yet...why? _Why_ _that song?_

The Crested Moon

Rusti forced her weary self into and out of the elevator. Dragging feet took her to her new quarters: the Moon's observation deck. The young lady shed her jacket and wished for the billionth time for a bottle of aspirin.

"Computer," she called, "I need to locate Galvatron." The communication bounced between three ships before the former Decepticon leader appeared on the view screen.

"Busy and out of trouble, the Decepticon promised. His voice produced a strange pitch, as though strained by pain.

"Did you hurt yourself somehow, Galvatron?"

"Hurt myself?" he echoed. "No. No. Erm... just... lost in an arm wrestling match with someone named Granite."

Rusti couldn't believe her ears. "You... _lost_? Or did you just decide to be _nice_ about it?"

"Nice?" Galvatron scoffed. "Are you serious? There was nothing nice about it! He tried to pick a fight. I was... disinclined to oblige him. So we did a ...an arm wrestling match and I lost."

"On purpose." Rusti added assumptively.

"Well... yes."

She hesitated, weighed her words. "I know it is hard for you to keep a low profile, Galvatron. But I appreciate it."

"As long as it makes you happy, Mizz Rusti." he answered in pleased tones.

Yeah, right. Rusti weighed the moment between a fifty-cent problem or a five dollar difficulty. Since no one complained about Galvatron (yet), the young lady chose not to worry abut him too much.

Rusti visited the Sunset Kummya two days in a row. Each day dragged while she listened to the cranky vessel and interpreted the Kummya's messages to her crew and captain. Her interpretation job gave Rusti headaches but not from the work itself. Crew members scoffed and teased Rusti, declaring her a fraud. Other Autobots grew impatient, expecting her to give them immediate answers.

The Sunset Kummya was not altogether forthcoming with information. It spoke but often not to her. It protested all changes made for the hydroponics. The Kummya was not happy with the soppy sensation of dirt on its flooring and it complained about it for _hours_. The ship hated how the crew rearranged its hydraulics and the Kummya spattered constantly about a dead body lodged in a sensitive area.

That was a scratch in everyone's record. A what? How did they miss a body? How long? They hounded Rusti for answers to which she assured them she only knew as much as the ship; it didn't know who the body was, only that someone put it there.

A swift record check declared her name was Orca, a research specialist in micro xenobiology. The femme disappeared on Cratis, presumed terminated during the battle against Decetron and his minions. Orca's dismembered body caused a disruption along the Kummya's hydraulics, much like a pebble in someone's shoe. Once Rusti located the body, fewer people gave her grief. One Autobot even apologized.

Magnus interrogated Rusti for two and a half hours, often repeating the same questions. Rusti, reiterated she knew only as much as the Kummya-which wasn't a lot.

Word about her ability spread along the fleet like the common cold. Rodimus quipped that Rusti now had an official job as Ship Whisperer.

She did not find that amusing.

Following that came requests from ten ship captains begging her to come to their aid and solve dilemmas regarding their vessels. Rusti set an appointment schedule and reminded each captain that what she did wasn't a quick fix and they'd have to be patient.

By the third day, the Kummya had noting more to complain about. Rusti returned to her quarters early and wished Optimus could take a few hours off. She had not seen him since the initial incident with the Kummya.

As she peeled off her jacket and removed her shoes, Rusti approached the area she and Optimus slept. To her surprise, a bed, chair and lamp replaced the pile of material she used for a makeshift bed. A small circular, metal table for one squatted before the chair and on the table lay a drawing pad, two pencils and an eraser.

Gasping with delight, Rusti sat in the chair and laid her hands on the table to make sure she wasn't imagining. She touched the mechanical pencils and flipped through the virgin drawing pad. The fluffy pillow on the bed (a real bed) waited for her. Rusti never thought she'd be so grateful for something as simple as furniture. Lying down, the bed endowed her a comfort she missed since they left Earth. Rusti passed out cold.

The sound of a low-droned voice slowly dragged her from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Rusti drew a waking breath. She moved luxuriously between the sheets, rolled to her left and listened. The Crested Moon did not gabber on as much as the other ships. But it did speak to the computer. A familiar phrase slipped through the Moon's garbled communication. "_Sydromm temm norr orr."_

Well, that's breaking it down into Human dynamic and referential construction. Crawling out of bed, Rusti swept up the precious drawing pad and pencil. She paused and stared at it. This was a privilege no one else had; paper. She held a treasure. She could have asked anyone for a spare digipad to draw on. But the feel of lead on paper gave her a greater connection to her art.

What did she do to deserve something so simple but so valuable? Rusti let the moment drop, opened the first page and jotted the Crescent Moon's repeated words. Rusti retranslated the mysterious phrase into the mathematical language of Autobot:

2/(-5x10)00B-7-10A7[c-h2]

cx12+k91007N {Pp/m/.0045}

Of course, they meant nothing to her. It could be, too, that she got the translation incorrect. Language was a tricky business. Giving up, Rusti cast her gaze out the windows. Space was so beautiful yet terribly empty. She longed for the Cascade Mountains. Hugging the drawing pad, Rusti wished even harder for a simpler time, for silver skies and sweet autumn rain. She missed the smell of snow and the songs of frogs and birds.

The deck doors opened. Two Autobots yammered incessantly. Optimus responded in one or two simple words before assuring them their problems would be handled-

"...tomorrow." he emphasized. They stopped gabbing, surprised that whatever was important to them was not so to him.

"But...Optimus-" came the whine.

"Good night." Optimus reinforced. And he closed the door on them. Rusti thought it odd; he locked the door. "Had enough," he muttered. Optimus approached their little make-shift world then stopped short. "I was hoping to find you..." he hesitated, lost with the wrong word. "...home."

His meaning was not lost on her and she offered him a smile. "I don't think I could thank you enough, not just for the furniture, Optimus, but for the drawing tablet. I-I don't know where or how you got one."

He settled at the drop-down floor next to her little place and rested an arm on her floor. "Concentric City has almost anything, even drawing tablets and chocolate. But I suspected we were going into a fight and figured the chocolate would not survive."

Rusti flopped into her chair. "Oh, chocolate! Next to a bath in a bathtub, that's something I really miss. I think when we get home, I'm going to buy stock in Hershey."

"Heh." Optimus softly laughed, "well, we're a bit short on chocolate. But the bath I might arrange."

Rusti raised her brows. Obviously he knew nothing of Roddi's 'lunch program.' "What did you do today?"

"Me?" he acted slightly surprised and it made her smile. "Well... you could say it was typical." she deeply nodded, knowing exactly what that meant. "And how about you, Miss Rusti? How was your day?"

"You're being evasive, Optimus. And I asked you first. Now sit still and let me draw you while you tell me about your day." Rusti settled in her chair, legs folded and smiled in to his optics. The day wore on him hard and heavy.

"Did you want me to start from the moment I left the Sunset Kummya or would you like me to reiterate what happened first?"

Without looking at him, Rusti lifted a finger. "No repeat episodes, please. That's what got me drafted."

"I hear that one."

She half-laughed and finished the initial shape of his form. "Did you have any emergency situations?"

"There are always emergency situations, Rusti."

"Yeah. Well, you're being tight-lipped and stubborn. Don't make me tattle on you for being evasive."

"I _like_ to be evasive. Keeps you guessing."

She lifted her eyes off the paper to stare into those beautiful blue optics. Like liquid light, she thought. "The alien ship, Optimus," she insisted. "Anything new about it?"

He forced a light laugh and she heard something different there. Rusti paused in her shade work. "Did I say something?"

"Well, no. I just got away from it all and you want a news report."

Rusti hesitated, trying not to take it personally. "Okay. Well, I'm hungry and cranky and maybe while I nibble on soup or something, you'd tell me something about your trip across the cosmos."

"With Galvatron?"

"With Galvatron."

"Did you want the PG-13 version or the rated-R?"

Her mind drew a blank. "Uh... Galvatron didn't get laid, did he?"

Optimus shook his head and laid on the floor, head resting on his arms. Concerned, Rusti put the drawing down to check on him. She pressed her hand along his face. "I'm sorry, Optimus," she squeaked. "You must be very tired."

"I missed you," he softly answered. Her shoulders fell and she ran her hand along th edge of his helm. Optimus rested his hand closer to her. "I've been to hell and I made it back."

She gingerly kissed the edge of his faceplate. "You probably figured I'd kick your aft if you didn't come back to me.

"That's it exactly."

"Ha!" Rusti settled on the floor, using his hand to support her back. She drew up her knees and gave him the moment to speak or remain silent as he needed. She really wanted to know what was going on; what everyone was doing. But if Optimus needed peace and quiet, she could wait and ask later.

He looked adorable lying half on 'her' floor and half on his. Was he tired because he had so much on his mind? Or was he tired from the plague of nightmares? Hurting for him, Rusti took to her feet and gently kissed him again.

"Wish you could just spend time with me," she whispered. She turned away and rubbed her right shoulder.

"That's a good idea, Rusti," Optimus answered in similar tones. 'We're quiet at the moment, waiting for a collection of plants to grow. And for First Aid to autopsy Orca's body." He crossed his arms, settled his chin on them. "Would it be such a crime for me to just lie low for a while?"

She turned, speechless. "Is that you speaking to me, Optimus, or is that Void?"

"Heh."

"Did you leave the workaholic somewhere on the bridge?"

"No. I passed it on to Magnus." he delighted in her smile. "I realized that I want to spend time with you while I am mostly me. I am here in this moment, sane and happy to be with you."

Rusti choked up. "You know what?" she said suddenly. "I'm starving. And um, did you mean it when you said you could arrange a bath for me?"

The Dancing Siren

Sunny lay on the flatbed, a prisoner inside a disintegrating shell. His mind raced, stopped and raced again. Pain radiated from his extremities, although eighty-five percent of them no longer existed. He stared at the ceiling with one optic. Dim lighting kept the total dark at bay. Dim lighting kept the horror of direct light from revealing his present condition.

A pinprick of consciousness reminded Sunstreaker that his brother hovered nearby. Sideswipe huddled into himself, grief-stricken with worry. Sunny did not know what to say to ease his brother's suffering. It yanked old gaskets that they were in this situation. Sunny always believed he'd die in battle. That was his destiny; pure, plain and simple. In fact, it often surprised the Autobot warrior that he lived this long.

That one stupid song came through his mind again:

_Them days a-rollin_

_my insides a-boilin' _

_Over and over._

_Clickin' clackin' _

_Workin', packin'_

_over and over._

_Slavin' up and lyin' down._

_Gassin' up and flyin' round_

_an' round, an round._

_Them days a-rollin_

_... a-rollin'_

_over and over._

The catchy tune ping-ponged in Sunny's head like a bad commercial on repeat. He hated the song. He hated the memories painted in the notes, the faces lodged in the lyrics. The song was not about happy times and good friends, but about suffering and slaving away for the sake of survival.

The good thing was that Sunstreaker failed to recall the name of the bastard who owned him and his family. That was so long ago, it was blissfully vague.

Speaking of vague, Sunny registered Sideswipe's voice. Oh, it was maybe one-one hundredth the strength it should have been. But it was there; sad, despondent. Sides asked about the song. He should know, the little cuss. He was there, too. He watched other Autobots slave under the brute's heavy-handed rule.

_Wicked, wicked Sidesssss._

Sunny didn't know where that thought suddenly came from. It wasn't true of course. Not regarding his brother. Sideswipe's just emo.

_Wicked._ _Abnormal. Conniving. _

Sideswipe was a pain in the aft, but he wasn't malicious; mischievous, but not cruel.

Sunny did not realize he conversed with himself. He went along with it, failing to question why such ideas floated through his processors.

_Co-dependant?_

Mm. Maybe. But it's okay. Sideswipe had been at his side since Day One...whatever day that was.

_You're not so perfect._

Sunny stopped humming. His thoughts now attacked himself. He tried moving his fingers. Nothing obeyed. Oh. Maybe he didn't have fingers anymore. He tried to move an ankle. No response. So sad. How much of his body did he have left?

_Pathetic._

Apparently, he was. Would Sunstreaker ever be what he was again? They were far, far away from Earth and Cybertron. Nobody packed any necessary equipment. What if he faced a life looking like a freak; like a bad rendition of some mangled Earth machine? He knew everyone who looked at him could lose their respect and admiration. Freaks never have friends. Freaks are so low in the Blue Book their value isn't worth the pixels that list them.

Sunny refused to look like a freak.

Sideswipe languished in the corner of Sunny's room. He had not recharged or refueled in days. Abandoning his brother, even long enough to pace outside the door, hurt.

He woke when First Aid and Apogee entered with a floating stretcher. Before they did anything to Sunstreaker, the medic attended Sideswipe. Concern dimmed his optics.

"Sideswipe, I know this is difficult for you. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but you need to go and get rest."

"Can't." Sideswipe's voice barely hit an octave.

"Then I'll call someone to come and assist you."

"Can't leave him. If he dies and I'm not there..."

"I will be with him, now. You need to trust me. You need rest and fuel. You do your brother no good by wasting away yourself. I have enough patients here. I do not want you to add to my list."

A knock at the doorpost elicited an annoyed sigh from First Aid. "All other emergencies and questions have been relegated to Blue. I am not available for anything or anyone at this time."

Doublecross offered a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm not here to harass you. I've been assigned to help Sideswipe."

Fist Aid tilted his head and nodded. "Thank Primus. He's not been the most cooperative visitor, Crossy. I've asked him to take care of himself-"

"Well, that's my job now. You just take care of his brother." the lady Monsterbot entered the dark room and crouched in front of the worry-wearied Autobot. She studied him and determined his inability to properly fight her. "Hey, Sideswipe. I'm here to collect you and plant you in a new container with lots of good soil and warm sunshine."

Sideswipe shook his head, his face dulled by a wall of hopelessness. "Not leaving Sunny."

"Yeah, I know. But orders are orders and I'm not going to paint any more ships. So either come with me, or I'll carry you."

"I don't want your help, Crossy. So tail out."

"Sorry. I have problems with your authority," the Monsterbot retorted.

"You can't tell me what to do. You are not my superior."

She nodded. "I am as of oh nine forty-seven this morning. If I have to, I will even bathe you."

The fading coils in Sideswipe's retraction instuds flared to life. Determination gave him the strength to resist her once more. "I said to piss off, Crossy! My brother is dying and I don't need your oily pity party."

She carefully tucked her smile into her voice. "Have it your way!" She gripped the stubborn twin about the waist, stood, and heaved him over her shoulder like a pack of parts. Sideswipe kicked and growled. His fists banged against her tough, resistant exterior.

"The Pitt to Primus, Doublecross, friggin put me down NOW!"

She winked at First Aid and Apogee who watched the moment with relief and surprise. "See ya, guys. Keep us informed!"

The Sagittarian Mozart

Twenty minutes. Never long enough a nap even for someone as disciplined as Ultra Magnus. His comm buzzed three times before he grumbled off the flat. "Computer, patch me in." He waited half a beat and drilled his optics into the ceiling. "This had better be worth it. We're not in the middle of battle."

Kup's own crotchety voice grated over the comm, "No, but we have something you need to take a look at."

"Call Prime or Prime. I have other things-"

"Optimus said to contact you. Rodimus is dealing with staff problems on the Covenant."

Magnus did not dignify Kup's wake up call with another word. He stomped out his quarters, transformed and rammed his way to command. All personnel on the Mozart's bridge zipped their lip components the moment the former city commander figuratively burst through the doors. The scowl on his face read _'Predator. Piss off at your own risk.'_

Kup on the view screen crossed his optics with Magnus', his own expression strictly business-like. "Clampdown and Metric hammered a few loose panels on the Cold Refractor two hours ago. This is what they found feeding off the ships:" He hit a control and flashed a slideshow from outside the Autobot ship. Crusty little sponges freckled the ship's exterior. A single florescent antennae drifted from the tops of their bodies. The same 'antennae' landed elsewhere on the hull and bound the things to the hull like clams to a rock.

Kup turned back to Magnus. "At the moment, the ship's hull integrity is still above ninety-seven percent. But it's steadily dropping. We need to get someone up there and burn them off."

Magnus took in the report, categorized it, assimilated and formulated a series of possible solutions. "How many ships have been affected?"

"Six."

Magnus stared a long moment. "Well, then, Kup, put together six teams of five people. Put Galvatron out there, too. Keep in contact, burn everything off. I want hourly reports."

Kup's face read reluctance. "Uh... Galvatron, you say?"

"He's not going to bite."

"Yeah. Alright. Uh, hourly reports?" Magnus folded his arms. Kup bobbed his head. "Yeah, sure. Not a problem."

The Cold Refractor

Shale, Siren, Bypass and Groove met Galvatron on the outer wings of the Cold Refractor. Galvatron held a small digipad in one hand and tools in the other. A few dents and scratches decorated his body. His face held a constant half smile-not a smirk, but a smile.

"Let me guess this on my own," he stated without preamble. "You're Siren," he handed the Headmaster a scrubbing tool. "You must be Bypass-"

"Are we _seriously_ working with you?" Bypass scoffed with a slight German accent.

Galvatron didn't pause to answer. "Well, _working_. I don't know about _serious_." Galvatron reached around the warrior and handed Groove a tool of his own.

Bypass's optics darkened. "Listen, Wise Aft, I don't know who said you could be out here, working with us-"

"My aft _is_ wise," Galvatron returned smoothly.

Groove inspected his gear. "Uh, Bypass, hate t' break it to ya, but Kup an' Magnus did the assigning."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do either, Groove," the other Autobot snapped. I do NOT want to work with a Decepticon."

Galvatron gave him a lined smile. "Don't make me wiggle my aft at you, too." He picked a spot several yards off and started to burn and scrape stubborn space barnacles from the ship.

Bypass' faceplate dropped and lifted with confusion. "What the pitt's he talking about?"

Twenty minutes of work dragged into two hours. Kup called for status updates. Several workers mewed and whined. The barnacles that cooperated best, died before the operation began. Those critters still alive often let go of the ship and latched onto the Autobot workers themselves. Kup popped a gasket and prepared for a long week.

The Hannibal's Mark

Technically, command and responsibility of the Confiscator belonged to Silverbolt. All the 'little kids' under his command were expected to be mature enough to understand the necessity of authority. But in Rodimus's experience, mutiny wasn't something anyone planned. Roddi loathed playing babysitter/negotiator and he decided this was going to be the one and only time such an incident occurred.

The argument between Roddi, Tieback, Bracket and Resin turned ugly and from ugly to loud. The shouting match escalated into violence. Rodimus put Tieback and Resin on the operating tables in the Dancing Siren and permanently confined Terrace, Udu and Botnik in the brig. From there, he appointed Arietta as communications officer and Semi to navigation. Silverbolt appointed Ashiko as second in-command and Skydive as security officer.

It was bad enough he and Optimus had to keep on their foretoes over the Virus. But dealing with lax discipline in the ranks pushed both of them to that tyrannical edge.

Rodimus returned to his 'home ship', drained and grumpy. He stomped onto the Hannibal Mark's bridge, three digipads in hand, a worn expression on his face. The distracted bridge crew failed to greet Prime as they watched events on the main view screen. Groove and Northpoint argued and crossed fire rods with Sureshot and Defractor. Irritated, Roddi tightened his grip on the digipads but kept his voice level. "What is going on?"

Patches jumped from her place at navigation. "Oh, Sir! So sorry about the lack of activities, Sir. But as you can see, there's lots of stuffs going on out there because somehow lots of space debris stuck to some of our ships. Although, Quasar says they're more like space barnacles than debris cuz it's a level of life forms, not just rocks and junks. And we're in the process of clean up but the guys outside are getting cranky cuz the junks keeps leaping from the ships to their legs. Except Galvatron. He's on the Mozart. Kup asked me to monitors the progress. Especially Galvatron, of course, cuz nobody likes him anyways cuz he's a Decepticon and nobody wants to works with a Decepticons, no matters how funny they is-" She stopped abruptly when Rodimus descended the dias.

He clicked the screen from drama to the asteroid field-the place they're supposed to scan. "-how funny they _are_," he corrected.

"Yes, Sirs."

"Waitaminute. You did not just say 'Galvatron."

"Uh, yes, Sir-I mean-I mean-yes...Sir. Galvatron. He's on the-" again she muted her vocalizer when Rodimus patched into the Mozart himself.

Ambient answered. "Yak at me, Your Primeness."

Five seconds later, she patched Rodimus to the appropriate line feed-

Galvatron grinned. "This is Galvatron. Currently all meta processors are busy. Please stay on the line for the next available smart remark."

"Galvatron!" Rodimus snarled.

"As far as I know-"

"What are you doing? You're supposed to-"

"I was assigned-and no, Mizz Witwicky is not aware. But I have witnesses."

"This is NOT in the agreement!."

"I know. You weren't there to agree to it at all." Galvatron burned one critter then three others and scraped them off while he listened in to Rodimus Talk Radio:

"You and Cyclonus are not supposed to run around without a leash!"

"Cyclonus can't use a leash right now. He's got booboos. As for me, I have Groove jiggling my retros."

"You stay right there. Don't move a servo until I discuss this with Ultra Magnus."

Galvatron stared at his torch as though it were defective. "Well, I suppose I'll allow you, R.P. Can I at least stay and play with my friends out here?"

"Don't call me that! Groove!"

"Sir?"

"You're in charge. Do not let Galvatron out of your sensory pattern."

Groove tried not to break a smile. "Aye... yeah-I mean, yes, Sir. Uh, what should I do if he ends up sucked into a singularity, or implodes or replicates and there's two of them?"

"Aww!" Galvatron beamed. "You're so cute!"

"Galvatron!" Rodimus snapped, "You stay out of this! Groove, don't get funny with me, buster! We have enough comedians around here. Stand by. Rodimus out." Groove laughed while he scraped off another barnacle.

Galvatron joined his laughter. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Groove."

The Protectobot shrugged. "It's not often I can get under Roddi's exostructure. Don't mean you an' me 'r dating, though, Galvatron."

The Sagittarian Mozart

Magnus jumped his scrutinizing gaze between three digipads and tapped notes on a fourth. He did not need to ask who bleeped at the com. Rodimus was about fifteen point seven seconds later than Magnus anticipated. So Magnus answered with a deadpan "what?"

"What the Pitt?" Rodimus spat. "Galvatron? Outside? Unsupervised?"

Ultra Magnus lightly grunted. "He's not unsupervised, Rodimus. He's with several other Autobots. Kup and his staff are keeping an optic on the operation. What more do you want me to do?"

"This was not per the agreement!"

"We needed people out there scraping. Galvatron can scrape. I don't know what your bitching about."

"Bitching?" Rodimus snarled. "_Bitching_?"

Magnus finally dropped his concentration on the pads. "What exactly is the problem, Rodimus? Don't you have enough to do?" Magnus felt the snarl across the com and smiled. He found a way to fully irritate and annoy Rodimus Prime. It was a lovely day, indeed.

Elsewhere on the Vertical Horizon

Tucked into a spacious room set aside for the alien plant nursery, Xylem carefully watered and fertilized three fruit tree saplings. Other than the piano melodies of George Winston leaking from her personal radio, the well lit room made not a sound.

Xylem crowned the top of a planter with moss she acquired-and replicated-on Lunarphyte several months ago. It made the perfect water retainer.

_Squelch._

Xylem paused. Did she really hear that? She glanced about the room. Maybe a leaf fell. Nothing appeared out of place. She waited while George Winston's _Angels of the Deep_ started playing. Nope. However someone entered the far side of the nursery.

Xylem smiled at Nu and Ableean Drobblstein as they approached with carts bearing newly planted seedlings. Ableean pushed her anti-grav cart into a row of plants and dusted her long dark hands on her jeans.

"I think that might be the last of the new crops for a while," she announced. "We could not squeeze one more empty container from anyone."

Nu nodded and Xylem glanced from cart to cart, counting shelves and plants per shelf. "Perfect. I just updated our hydroponics collection and we have a wonderful array of plants. It's just a matter of waiting for them to grow."

Nu eyed the more recent work. "Have you witnessed anything odd or strange regarding the alien inventory off the derelict ship?"

"Oh, a little. The seeds have a beautiful silver shell. The plants grow amazingly fast. I almost transplant as fast as I plant. The vines grow much faster than anything I've experienced. However, other plants aren't responding well to normal soil. Fortunately, it appears that anything will grow from soil I acquired off Lunarphyte."

Xylem signed Nu's digipad. "Please inform Ultra Magnus my status update will be delayed a few more hours. I wish to set the rest of these plants in their little beds before I write my report."

Nu said something more but Xylem thought she heard something yet again. She smiled at Nu and nodded.

"Great!" Nu grinned. "I'll let Blaster know you'd like to borrow it. You'll love Brian Eno. Guaranteed!"

Xylem watched her fellow femme and the Lyrian, Ableean, depart. The doors shushed behind them and Xylem took another visual stock of her nursery. She set down her digipad and quietly toured the nursery. Nothing appeared out of place. Nothing lay on the floor. She checked for water leakage. Nothing dripped. Only bits of soil speckled the flooring wall to wall.

Xylem swung her arms out and let them flap against her sides. "What the crazies? I must be hearing things!" she turned left to right and found three planters devoid of saplings. "No, that cannot be right! And Nu was right there-" Xylem patched into the com, "Keepsake, have you been in the nursery doing inventory today?"

"Negative. You want me to?" the Autobot smirked.

"Negative. It's simply that I'm missing-"

_Swish-grind, Swish-grind. Swish-grind._

Xylem cut herself off and glanced around.

"Eh, there?" Keepsake called. "Xylem? Xylem?" he heard her scream.

Magnus devoted every spare moment to the mysterious happenstance among the ships-especially the Crested Moon's docking clamps. That incident should never have taken place. Magnus ordered his people to recheck each ship's lift-off capabilities.

Adding to his workload, Magnus investigated Orca's death. He refused to call that a murder until First Aid performed the autopsy. But in First Aid's list, Orca was not an immediate priority. A saboteur lurked among the ranks; a proficient ghost who covered his tracks and knew where to hit them.

Rodimus called, asking for an update on weapons supplies on the Cold Refractor.

Magnus obliged him and returned to work.

He whittled his investigation down to a single tool. The Major-general found a glitch in the gadget-input system. All tools logged themselves into subdirectories when users signed reports on their activities. The system created a tracking detail in case a device turned up missing. As he followed the input path, Magnus found a missing log entry.

Rodimus called again and asked about the staff switch on board the Sabor's Claw.

Unruffled by the interruption, Magnus searched ten minutes for that particular digipad and uploaded the reports to the Hannibal's Mark.

He resumed his work and tracked all personnel who used that particular pad then cross-referenced it with everyone who worked on that particular day, then down to the shift and-

Rodimus called, this time asking for reports from Velocity's recon team.

"Not back yet," Magnus rumbled.

"Is Galvatron back in his cage yet?"

"No."

"Why?"

"He's still working."

"Why?"

Magnus' gears grounded. "Because it's the best way to use him as a resource."

"Why?"

The digipad in Magnus' hands cracked, smoldered and sizzled in death.

Then Keepsake called in.

They checked the nursery. Keepsake, HiDef and Panout examined the plants, the floor and the walls. Magnus swept the place with three different spectrometers and coordinated all their efforts with the ship's computer.

Just when Magnus considered setting the whole ship under quarantine, the klaxon alarms called the investigators to Deck Seven. They rushed along several corridors and slid down emergency hatchways.

Storage room 39-G welcomed Magnus and his soldiers to a room dripping with humidity, lichen, moss and more plant growth than what they found in the nursery.

Magnus' optics flared. "What the leaking Pitt is this all about?"

"Movement!" HiDef announced. "I got movement-"

"Talk to me, soldier!' Magnus ordered.

"Ahhh... ten paces out the door, about a dozen or more-" Magnus did not stay to hear the rest. He fled the scene, followed by Keepsake. They transformed and trailed the hall at high speed. They hit their brakes, shifted back into robo-mode and skid in their tracks.

Leafy vines slap-stepped or crawled along the wall like an amoeba. Shrubs tumbled in a roll toward the Autobots. Plants. All shapes, sizes and varieties crept toward them.

Magnus cussed.

The Crested Moon

Rusti sat in her comfy chair, feet on her little table and a bowl of rationed oatmeal in her hands. She and Optimus watched a Madison West film, one of several romance comedies available to the fleet.

Optimus maintained one optic on reconnaissance reports as they trickled in. Every now and again he signed his name on a report or a request, but did not answer any incoming calls. "Rusti, explain something to me," he said quietly.

"Hmmhm?" She did not meet his gaze. Rusti stared at the character's beautiful dress.

"If... if Kamay loves him so much, why won't she simply come out and say it?"

Rusti batted her eyes and peeled her attention from the story to her love. "Um... you mean Japheth?"

"The animal shelter's director, yes."

Rusti thought it through. The story about a city girl forced to move to a farm in the desolate countryside was typically silly. But it was a simple movie and Rusti preferred her romance stories sweet and simple. "I think it's a fifty-fifty deal, Optimus. She loves him, but there's only a fifty percent chance that he feels the same. So she teases him to see whether or not he's attracted to her. When he came to her rescue in the rain, that made the situation worse because now he's her hero. And the girl always wants to marry the hero."

"I don't understand. She's clearly playing mind games with him. It's cruel." he replied with confusion.

Rusti took another mouthful of oatmeal and swore that once they got home, she'd never touch the stuff again. "Well, Kamay needs to see if he's even looking for a relationship, something permanent, someone to commit to. It's about the other fifty."

"What about the other fifty?"

"The other fifty is that he just wants a good time."

Optimus mentally chewed through the oddity of 'Romance According to Rusti'. "So she plays mind games with him to see if he's really interested in her as a _person_ as opposed to her as a _sleeping bag_."

Startled by his frank comment, Rusti bit her tongue and groaned with the pain. She laid a hand along her cheeks, dragged her eyes onto him as she swallowed air with her oatmeal.

Before she said anything, Optimus moaned and dropped his head. "Magnus is calling."

Rusti rolled her eyes. "Please tell him you are not the universe's babysitter, Optimus." Rusti ate her words when the Crested Moon's comline bleeped. Magnus was desperate for attention. Prime tilted his head, expressing an I-told-you-so.

"Prime," he answered.

"I. WANT. A. VACATION."

Rusti raised her brows over Magnus' growling vocalizer. She read the smile in Optimus' optics but he too kept his voice serious.

"What's the problem, Ultra Magnus?"

"I have plants _walking_ the decks! There are three lines of data missing from a sonic tool. Rodimus and Galvatron are waging verbal war. They're driving me to drink!"

Optimus hesitated before answering. "You know, Ultra Magnus, you should be grateful they're at each other's throats. It could be much, much worse."

"Oh, really?" Magnus challenged. "Because Rodimus just contacted me-again-and rattled on and on how Galvatron is using his temporary freedom to gather support for his cause. I have NO idea WHAT Rodimus is talking about. He simply won't shut up! So you tell me, how could this be worse?"

Optimus laid his optics on Rusti and considered Magnus' frustration. "They could team up against you. Do you need any assistance, Ultra Magnus?"

"**NO**! I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP! I am, however, blaming it on YOU!"

"Very well," Optimus accepted quietly. "I suggest you start with a tea party, Magnus. Invited Rodimus and Galvatron to it. Get yourself an ass and find a tail to pin on it." Rusti did not hear anything more until a 'click' signaled that Magnus 'hung up'. She and Optimus quietly chuckled until Optimus hung his head with a deep sigh. "Love, I need to check on Sunstreaker."

Rusti nodded. "Titanium asked me to visit the Frostbite. He thinks there might be stowaway rats onboard." Optimus gave her a scrutinizing glare, silently warning her to be careful.

"Stay in touch," He did not mean it to sound like a order. Rusti understood. She smiled and blinked before pushing off the chair and dressing for the job.

The Dancing Siren

Sunstreaker rocked himself in the darkness, softly humming the same loathing tune. It wasn't so bad now. He had, however, forgotten the words. Somewhere in the back of his head his brother called his name. But Sunny decided it was a dream; the echos of things old and mostly forgotten.

Other voices came and departed, fading with time and darkness. He just sat there and hummed. Elsewhere in his little world, another Self joined him in his private reverie. Sometimes the Other Self hummed along with him and asked about the song. Other times it simply sat and listened.

_What's it say you had a sister?_

"We did," Sunny answered the Other Self. "Long, long time ago. They took her away."

_Where to? Do tell. Where to?_

"Oh, wherever it is that people go when they die."

_We don't understand the 'go-and-die'._

"Nobody truly does. Nobody knows what happens when you die. They know that you have left your body and that the body can't live without the spark."

_We will make certain we do not die._

"Everybody dies." That did not sit well with the Other Self. Not at all. Sunny could not bring himself to care. A bug buzzed around him. He shook his head to keep it from landing on his face. No bugs, please. Bugs are icky-yet another thing he hated about Earth. Icky bugs slammed into a chassis on the road. Open mouth, insert bug. Ewwe. Bugs crawled on the ground and flew in the air and wormed their way into crevices and places where nothing belonged.

Bugs were gross.

Just as Sunny raised his hand to bat the bug aside, he activated his optics and found two people staring at him. Sunny balked and tried to back off.

"Take it easy, Sunny," First Aid soothed. "You're okay. Give yourself a moment or two to adjust."

That sounded bad. Bad. Sunstreaker froze. As he did so, his optics focused. Shapes and colors realigned on their own. Edges sharpened and highlights streaked less and less. Sunstreaker dropped and gathered his lower mandible. Something felt strangely off; his shoulders didn't move as they did before the battle.

"Hold still, Sunstreaker. Let me make another adjustment here."

"What? What's going on? What are you doing to me?"

"Yo, Bro!" Sideswipe's voice sounded cheerful to everyone but his brother. Sunny heard the exhaustion and worry in Swipe's perky tones. "They're fitting you with temporary housing. Isn't that great?"

"What?" Sunny's movements jerked and creaked.

"HOLD. STILL." Perigee clamped a strong hand against Sunny's neck while heat radiated into his left hip. Sunstreaker obeyed as First Aid muttered 'almost finished'. The Autobot warrior's face... plate (?) twitched. The heat neared Sunstreaker's toleration mark and he forced himself to stay very still.

First Aid let up and his visor zoomed into Streaker's face. "Sorry if it's a little sore, Sunny. But at least this improvisation will give you time until we can get your other body properly repaired."

Sunstreaker's mind whirled with confusion. "Improvisa-" he found Sideswipe at the door, Doublecross stood beside him. She offered a supportive smile. Sunny thought it creepy. "What... what's this about?"

First Aid laid a hand on a shoulder too small to belong to Sunstreaker. "We found a way to keep your metaprocessor functional while we wait for an opportunity to repair your body, Sunstreaker. You're not good as new, but you're up and around."

Sideswipe brightened, all smiles and hope. "See? Nothing like a small miracle!"

A tentative knock at the door post drew everyone's attention as Optimus peered inside. "I heard the news and thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing, Sunstreaker." he paused, optics skipped from person to person. "Nicely done, First Aid," he praised.

"Don't overdo it, Optimus," Aid put away his tool while Perigee cleaned off the skeleton of a robot. The poor thing jerked and squeaked with every nuance and movement. Sunstreaker's temporary housing lacked refinement, style and glamor. He also had no means of transforming. First Aid hauled up a chest plating, Perigee picked up a plating for the backside. Between the two, they fitted the metal shields over Sunny's delicate inner workings and clamped the pieces together.

Sunstreaker's mind slowly disentangled and he stole a quick glance at his hands, another at his feet. He gazed at his right arm. He lowered and raised a faceplate and found he could not look his brother in the optic.

First Aid tightened adjustments on Sunny's feet and made certain the weight retraction instuds at the ankles were not too tight. "Alright, Sunstreaker. No antics. No racing. Just take it easy, go slow. Make sure you get back here ASAP if something goes wrong." The medic wiped his hands on a dirty towel and tossed it in a basket already piled with laundry.

Streaker attempted a first step forward. Sideswipe caught his flailing brother and forced on an assuring smile. "Whoa there! No tripping or falling over, either. Isn't that right, Doc?"

Sunny glimpsed part of his reflection off his brother. "I look like walking trash."

Optimus leaned a shoulder against the doorway. "It's only temporary, Sunstreaker. Once we get to Yolthanis Three, they can fix you up right. At least this way you're off the critical list and out of First Aid's way."

Sunstreaker nodded, knowing better than to mew to a less than sympathetic audience. They didn't understand what it was like to lose beauty. "Aye, Sir," he mumbled. He tried to walk again but stumbled against his brother. "Help me outta here, Sideswipe. I need some fresh scenery."

"Not a problem!" and Sideswipe carefully aided his brother out the room and down the hall, broadcasting all the latest gossip and news. Optimus and Doublecross watched the brothers slowly make their way toward the elevator.

"Crossy," Prime said with a quiet voice. "Tag them. Report changes in mood or behavior."

"Yes, sir!" Doublecross switched to her alternate Monsterbot mode and tailed the two as First Aid stepped up to watch. He shook his head with uncertainty.

"I don't like to just let him out like this, Optimus," the medic confided. "But I can't keep him in here, either. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe aren't the sort to keep down for weeks at a time."

"You did well to fit him with something, First Aid."

"I don't know how long it will work."

Optimus hesitated. "If you need extra materials, just let me know-"

"It's not materials, supplies or sustenance," First Aid clarified. "It's his spark. He's so depressed, I don't know if he _wants_ to recover." the Autobot doctor shook his head and returned to the room where Perigee sanitized used tools and the soiled table. "I can put him in a housing, Optimus. But I can't make him happy. Sunstreaker will have to decide for himself whether or not he has something worth living for."

The Frostbite

Rusti surveyed Docking Bay Three with Snippit. The femme inspected two shuttles and inventoried tools as Rusti picked her way around crates, powerlines and hoses.

While the bay remained soundless, Rusti sensed something outside the walls but noises and static from other directions disrupted her ability to pinpoint oddities. She turned to the femme who double checked her list. "I'm not really getting anything."

Snippit shrugged. "The workers might be imagining things."

Rusti scowled. "No. There's _something_. But it doesn't feel mechanical or organic. And I can't hear the Frostbite. How about we step out of here? Is there a control room or a place adjacent to the bay?"

"Bay auxiliary control."

Rusti followed her next door to a closet of a room. A control panel coupled with a pair of chairs offered just enough space in which to sit. Snippit courteously offered to assist the girl onto one chair while she claimed the other. Rusti sat with legs crossed, hands in lap, eyes forward. Snippit continued to write her report when the young lady turned to the Autobot femme.

"Can you stop writing for a moment?" she tried to sound courteous and thanked the femme with a smile. The room stood still; the bay soundless. Rusti stretched her senses. The reason she failed to hear the Frostbite was because the shuttles were also 'talking'.

..._CREEPING UPSIDE DOWN. TICKLES. SQUEAKS. CHEWING ON LINES..._

_[I hear you. I hear you speak.] _Rusti was not sure the Frostbite heard her or was inclined to answer.

_...CHEWING ON LINES..._

_[Where? Location, please.]_ she batted her eyes and smiled at Snippit. "Deck Two. Starboard environmental controls."

Snippit offered Rusti a nice flying lesson through the Frostbite's interior. But after time spent with Cyclonus, Rusti politely declined. They met Titanium, Negate and Perox at the EC room.

Negate frowned at the door then his scanner. "Are you certain our vermin problem is in here, Miss Witwicky?"

"No," Rusti answered, "but the Frostbite seems to be." she did not flinch when the ship's security officer glared. Perox deactivated security controls and the group entered. Titanium ordered lights on.

Black shapes scattered in several dozen directions; icky things on too many legs. Spiked tails trailed after. Perox acted on instinct; he shot everything that moved and splattered six before Snippit forced his weapon down.

"What's the matter with you?" she snapped. "We don't know what they are!"

As Perox and Snippit bickered, Rusti examined the remains. "Green goo," she muttered. "Why does it have to be green goo? Gross."

Negate followed her, scanner in hand. "I don't like this. Scanner readout says it's not organic."

Rusti cringed. "What else can be slimy if it's not organic?"

Negate steeled his optics squarely on her. "You're assuming everything that's found on Earth is the same across the universe, Miss Witwicky. Nothing could be further from the truth. In this case, the organism's compositional makeup aluminum, bromine and... proto nitrogen."

Snippit turned with a tilt of her head. "Proto nitrogen? How's that remotely possible?"

Negate scowled with a huff. "We're in _space_, ladies. We're bound to find the strange and extraordinary. Now, Miss Witwicky, if you kindly step back, we'll hunt the rest of these things..."

Rusti blocked him from her senses. High-pitched static squealed and a rough voice attempted to contact anyone close by. She slowly turned from the gooey scene, her sight shifted inward as she struggled to translate the sound. Snippit called, her voice distant and weak. Rusti made for the door and laid her hand on the post. The static increased in volume and the young woman pinched her eyes closed. Pain ebbed into her head as she strained to listen.

Snippit touched Rusti's shoulder and brought her back to the moment. The young lady gazed upward, her eyes moist with tears. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. Can you take me to the Vertical Horizon?"

The Vertical Horizon

Kup's disgruntled expression appeared on the docking bay monitor. He scratched a signature on a report before fixing his optics first on Snippit then Rusti. "What's so case-cracking important? I got twenty-three areas affected by scruffed-up, chassis-mangled barnacles."

Rusti tugged her oversized jacket closer around her. "I'm sorry, Kup. If I didn't think it was important I wouldn't bother you."

"What, then? I'm busy."

"Yeah. I won't be long. I think the Vertical Horizon was trying to communicate with the Frostbite and I just need to know what it was trying to say and why."

"What?" Kup asked incredulously.

Snippit tried to help, "she was aiding us in tracking down some type of rat on the Frostbite when she... well, she acted odd."

Rusti glared at the femme but it went unnoticed. She rolled her eyes. "I just need a few minutes on the bridge. I won't be in the way, I promise." she blanched at Kup's unrepeatable reply.

"All right," he snarled. "You have ten minutes." he cut communications and Snippit sneered.

"Crotchety old backfire."

Rusti smiled. "He's harmless and most of it is for show." She followed the femme into the docking bay lift. In spite of all the traveling arrangements, Rusti's 'job' was much more interesting than time done on the Kummya.

The deck crew sent and received reports and updates while they ignored Rusti and Snippit. Kup was not present. Tressel, Mnemonic and Xylot supervised operations and communications. Rusti tried to sift through the constant chatter and ignore those who came and left. She forced her senses to cue in the ship's computer. The crew spoke in their native language and it distracted Rusti at first. No doubt most of the Autobots on the bridge assumed she could not understand them.

"_Heads up, mechs_," one Autobot sneered, "_squishy on deck._"

Rusti frowned at the round of sniggers following Tressel's remark. She let it go and concentrated on the soft vibrations under her feet. She envisioned the circuitry and internal components beyond control panels and switchboards.

"_I'll bet Optimus Prime would marry a slug if it looked just right."_

The laughter knocked Rusti out of concentration. Snippit hung back and said nothing.

"_Maybe Rodimus will find himself a fish or a worm to entertain himself with." _Tressel checked off a list on his datatablet, giving room for Macron to speak:

"_Knowing Rodimus, he'd try to teach the worm to dance."_ That earned him an accompaniment of raucous laughter.

"_Do you short-circuited keypads think you're funny?"_ Rusti challenged in their language. Snippit gasped behind her. Everyone else's optics turned bright and wide with amazement. "_You're not remotely funny, Tressel."_ she paused for emphasis then huffed a breath and spoke in English. "Now put it in mute so I can concentrate!"

Rusti closed her eyes and again attempted concentration. The Autobots around her vibrated with indignation. She steered from them to the Horizon and searched for the 'static language'. Down, down, past surface controls, Rusti searched the ship's computer.

She found nothing, except the computer mentioned a high number of log entries by Ultra Magnus. Bickering ping-ponged between a group of micromasters and three humans who did not want to give up their makeshift pool table...

There!

She looked to her companion. "Snippit, I need a digipad, please." Rusti expected opposition but one of the other deck staff offered hers. Two Autobots barely concealed their laughter. Rusti knew she looked ridiculous kneeling before the pad to input information. She tried to ignore them. The keypad was the size of a bed, the keys slightly larger than her hands. But Rusti made do and punched in words and numbers as they came to her. In the middle of the transmission, she startled and stared out the view screen. "Ohmigod," she whispered.

"What?" the femme asked.

"The ships aren't talking to each other." chills spread along Rusti's back. "They're speaking to the alien vessel."

Cold Refractor

Rodimus reached boredom point at the half-hour. Two hours more had him seething at the view screen. "This is taking too long! Why don't we just charge the hull and fry them crispy?"

His communications officer, Chalk Talk, grimaced. "Kup said the things don't respond to electrocution."

Outside the Cold Refractor Galvatron scraped off the last barnacle before examining the area around him. Were it not for the Refractor's shields, he and the others would be standing botcicles by now. The work left scrapes and dents all over the affected ships, but it was far better a thing than holes. Rodimus ranted along the communication lines like a squishy caught in the rain.

To agitate the Autobot leader further, Galvatron gave him the silent treatment for seven point four minutes-with a grin.

"GALVATRON!"

The former Decepticon leader leisurely wiped scrapings from his tool. "I know," he answered calmly.

"You know what?"

"You miss me. And I'd sing to you, Roddi-boy, but then everyone would talk, Optimus would get jealous and before you know it, Magnus would want attention too."

"This is NOT about Magnus! You've been ignoring me for ten minutes! I want a report!"

Galvatron thought quickly. "Mm. Okay. Uh, Groove, help me out here. Roddi needs a report. I'll start and you fill in the blanks."

Rodimus palmed his forehead. "Oh, God," He moaned.

Chalk Talk grinned at him. "Sounds like you're going to get exactly what you asked for," he sang.

Galvatron cleared his vocalizer. "At approximately eleven hundred A.M. Standard Pacific Time-"

**Groove**: "that's eleven-thirteen, according to Magnus' report."

**Galvatron:** "I was called in by His Uppitiness, Security Officer Kup, to assist in the extermination and elimination of space pests nibbling gleefully away at the hull on the Refractor.

**Groove:** "Kup was sorta cranky about it and wanted to make sure I kept an optic on Galvatron at all times. But you know that already, Rodimus. And the space barnacles attacked six ships, not just the Refractor."

**Galvatron:** "Naturally, I obligated since Cyclonus and I are now a minuscule part of this entire envoy and refugee operation."

**Groove:** "that's _permission_ to join the envoy."

**Galvatron:** "Consequently, for eight laborious hours-"

**Groove**: "Eight point four, actually."

**Galvatron:** "I and several other crew members-

**Groove:** "Twenty-eight."

**Galvatron:** "-from five other ships have singed, scraped and shot an undetermined number of... critters.

**Groove:** "We did not collect any live specimens to determine their exact species."

**Galvatron:** "We now stand at the last few perpetrators and plan to return to our designated origins for decontamination and hopefully a short recharge. In regards to myself, I plan to reconnect with my self-appointed parole officer, Mizz Witwicky and give her mostly the same report that I am verbalizing to you. Etcetera. Etcetera. Groove, please translate."

Groove reiterated everything Galvatron just said, using synonyms and borrowed vocabulary. Rodimus moaned and pressed finger to the bridge of his ol factory. "Chalk Talk, if anybody asks, I'll be in sick bay."

"Visiting Sunstreaker, Rodimus?"

"No. With a headache."

Galvatron heard the dismal voice of a defeated Rodimus and grinned. Groove let loose a single laugh. The Decepticon nodded at the Protectobot, grateful for the moment of fun. He lifted his optics toward the ship's deck upper level and spotted the Sunset Kummya not far from starboard. "Is everyone certain they've found everything?"

Groove hesitated and sent a silent message to workers on other ships. The response came almost immediately. "All's clear, Galvatron. Looks like we did the job. Kup will assign someone else to keep a look out for other stuff as the fleet moves along."

While Groove spoke, Galvatron caught sight of an off-color object protruding awkwardly from an exhaust hatch. "What is that?" he asked pointing toward it.

"What?"

"That." Galvatron climbed the smooth hull, bypassing wing retractors and a series of intake valves. Groove trailed after and kept an extra optic out for his peers. Allowing the Decepticon to do anything alone was asking for trouble.

Galvatron crouched at the corner of the Refractor's sonar/radar top fin and studied the arm and hand of some Autobot who lay bolted and buried under the panels. He slowly turned his optics from the body to Groove. "I think we have a dead one here."

The Sagittarian Mozart

Magnus lay flat on his back, recalling the time he, Rodimus and Blurr chased after Perceptor to Planet Zimojin. That world had such a dense structure that the tree he fell in hurt like hell; breaking him, not he breaking the branches. He compared Zimojin's rocks and trees to the walking foliate running loose on his ship. He wished this was just another of Rodimus' irritating pranks.

A bout of playful giggles issued from a blue-green shrub as it skittered along the hallway on long skinny roots. It hopped over Magnus with a soft grunt. As Magnus scrambled to his feet, the shrub paused, barked at him then galloped round the corner.

Magnus' internal comline bleeped. "THIS HAD BETTER BE FRAGGING GOOD! I'm BUSY!"

Unaffected by his foul mood, Magnus' communications officer answered with a calm voice. "Sir, I'm receiving a transmission from Rodimus Prime-"

"Didn't you just hear me Ambient? I said I was busy!-WHUMP!"

A pompom of leaves and twigs assaulted Magnus face-first. He lost his footing and slipped backward.

"Commander? Commander, is everything alright?" Ambient sighed out loud. "Sir, I'm sorry to keep bothering you but Rodimus Prime said they found a body on the Refractor, Sir. He wanted to let you know."

Magnus' fingers lost their way through the shrub while he tried to pry it off. When that failed, he searched blindly for his fallen rifle. The same ridiculous, playful giggle rattled through the shrub's short trunk before it whisked away, running at an unbelievable speed. Magnus found his weapon, rolled left and jumped to his feet, though not quite as nimble as his assailant. He heard soft rustling but could not pinpoint the source.

"Damn it!" he spat.

"Commander-"

"I HEARD YOU! And you can tell Rodimus Prime that I'm BUSY!" Ambient said something more but Magnus ignored her as his optics lifted and traced the upper corridor lighting. Stretching and snaking along at yet another unrealistic rate, a vine grew along either side, dimming the lighting and dropping festoons of bright white flowers along the walls.

Ambient sighed into the comline. "Rodimus, I'm sorry, but Ultra Magnus is currently unavailable."

"What? What the hell is he doing?"

"Fighting the alien plants, I do believe, Sir."

Rodimus stared at the consol in disbelief. His index finger twitched until the humor of the situation finally made sense. A slow mischievous grin spread across his face. "Ohhhh. I'm going to get some milage out of _this_ one."

The Crested Moon

Rusti stared out the huge windows in her observation deck-turned quarters. Optimus was called away to the Dancing Siren. First Aid finally found the time to autopsy the Autobot Rusti discovered. No telling how long that meeting may take. Rusti hoped the femme was a casualty of the battle on Cratis, not a murder victim.

As she stared out the window toward the other ship off their port bow, Rusti suspected Optimus would not take her request lightly. She tried to formulate a logical reason why she should visit the alien ship. Just the fact that she was a 'big girl' held no water. Rusti lifted her eyes to the top sills along the windows. "Need to get on that ship," she said to herself.

The Crested Moon's computer called her attention: "TRANSMISSION FROM GALVATRON, MISS WITWICKY."

"Galvatron?" she repeated.

"Hi!"

Rusti turned about as a monitor unfolded from a pocket in the wall. The grin on his face forced her to return one to him. "Galvatron?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Thought I'd check in, let you know that the natives haven't tried to burn me at the stake yet. However, they might consider me a god. Been there a time or two-"

"Galvatron," she interrupted, "what are you doing? You're not agitating Rodimus, are you?"

"Is that my next assignment?" He read her body language. "No? No, you're right. He gets enough of that from everyone else. I say, however, we found a body."

Her face turned blank. "Huh?"

"As in a corpse? Lost in Space, was Rodimus' eloquent quip."

"Yeah, that sounds like Roddi," Rusti agreed. "Well, I'm guessing you want to spend the night right where you are."

Galvatron hesitated, "well, now that you mention it..."

"How's Cyclonus?"

"Mmm... bored."

An idea formed in Rusti's head. If Optimus and Roddi trusted Cyclonus with her safety in an alien city... She smiled. "Okay. Be good, Galvatron. Don't piss anyone off."

"Never intend to, Mizz Rusti."

"Naturally. I'll be in touch." she cut communication when he tossed her a cheesy smile. "Such a dork," she muttered.

The Dancing Siren

Optimus entered the exam room just as unhappy as Rusti thought. First Aid frowned and handed a sonic tool to Perigee. Galvatron greeted his friend with a light smile.

Rodimus reflected Optimus' demeanor. "Nice of you to join us."

"Nice of you to be here ahead of me." Prime countered. "Looks like you found something we don't need."

Roddi shook his head. "Don't look at me. Your adoptee here found Mr. Not-So-Happy outside the ship, lying down on the job."

First Aid slammed an exam tool down and received everyone's attention. "First off, his name was Klasp. Secondly, he was hardly lying down. He was brutally attacked first with a black virus program then savagely overloaded. His meta-processor is fried beyond recognition. There's nothing I can do to retrieve anything of him. He's _gone_. And to add insult to injury, he was spaced and embedded in the ship's hull. So how about a little _respect_ for the suffering, Rodimus?"

Rodimus played it cold and sighed. "First Aid, not at this point, okay?"

Optimus folded his arms. "What have you found?"

The medic picked up a digipad and flipped screens. "Our friend here has been dead for several weeks. Probably died on Cratis. Whomever attacked him, knew more or less what they were doing. Premeditated. At first Klasp put up a fight, indicated by the scruff marks on his hands and face. My guess, Optimus, Rodimus, is that Klasp knew his attacker. And he didn't go down easily."

Rodimus leaned against the exam table, head bowed. "Waitaminute. You're saying he died during the fight with the Decepticons, right?

First Aid gravely shook his head. "This happened before that."

Roddi's optics darkened. "So now we have a saboteur and a murderer lurking among us."

Optimus stared at the face of an Autobot possibly murdered by his own kind. He felt responsible, as though he should have known something like this was bound to happen. "First Aid, what of Orca?"

"We're still piecing her together, Optimus. But from what I can tell, she died almost at the time we arrived on Cratis." First Aid waited for one Prime or the other to ask or remark. But Rodimus turned away. Optimus stared at Klasp's remains. His dark optics betrayed only the slightest hint of anger and sorrow. The medic proffered an hand toward the adjacent room where they stored Orca's broken remains. "We'll let you know the half-second we find anything, Optimus."

"I appreciate that, First Aid." the Autobot leader carefully tucked his voice into neutral. "Where is Magnus?" Prime asked abruptly.

Rodimus grinned with a twinkle in his optic. "Oh, Magnus? Let's just say that he's listening to something begging him "Feeeed me!" when Roddi read the question in his friend's face he rolled his head. "Not into Little Shop of Horrors. Okay. Magnus is taking lessons in xeno-horticulture."

The room fell silent for a long moment until Optimus shook his head. "Did you want to rescue the dearly distraught, or shall I?"

"Neither." Roddi answered immediately. "I think he should be left to his own devices-for now, anyway. Me and Galvatron here will snoop around and look for clues to our perpetrator. You need to go talk Rusti out of chasing ghosts."

"What?"

The Crested Moon

Rusti scowled when Optimus told her of what Rodimus said. There's just no keeping secrets from either Prime. "They're not ghosts," she corrected. "The alien ship is trying to communicate with the Autobot ships."

"We have linguists working on the computer, Rusti."

"It's not the computer, Optimus," she countered with some exasperation. "The ship... look, the ship and its computer are not one and the same. They're a part of each other-like your meta processor verses your body. Not the same thing but your body is a part of the processor. Your body communicates on a level different from your mind. It's the same way with the ships. I'm not hearing the computer, but the ship."

He stared at her a long moment, optics devoid of expression until his posture sagged. The Autobot cast his sight out the windows. Rusti just presented him with something more that required his time and attention. Weariness burdened his heart. Optimus felt he'd do almost anything just to get a break. "It seems that no matter what I try to do, something is constantly taking my time away from you." He rested his optics on her. "I'm not blaming you, Rusti," he added swiftly. "I'm guilty for dealing with issues that can easily be handled by someone else. Call it a habit. I need... I want..." he dejectedly bowed his head.

Rusti felt his frustration and sat in her chair. "You know," she tried, "that ship isn't going anywhere. We're not going anywhere-yet. How about we just let everyone else deal with things for a few hours? Take a mini vacation?"

"We can't go anywhere on vacation, Rusti. We'd most likely be stuck in this room."

Rusti snorted. "As if we've never traveled anywhere at all, Optimus! Good God! How many light years are we from home?"

"Twenty-"

"DON'T ANSWER THAT! Rhetorical. I'd rather not know."

"Heh. Well..." he avoided optic-to-eye contact a moment before meeting her gaze. "What would a vacation for you and I entail? It'd just be the two of us."

Rusti smiled warmly. "Yes it would! Britania has a huge movie database. We could watch a few more films, swap stories, play a game or two... just talk. We can also trade music." she winked. "And didn't you mention a bathtub?"

A beautiful light sparked his optics.

The Sabor's Claw

Pong nervously entered the gun deck along the Claw's starboard bow. Fourteen people from across the fleet surrounded a soft light globe. Each Paratron held a flagon of energon in their hands and an old digipad lay on the floor before the each of them.

Strike Back grinned and beckoned the timid maintenance worker to join them. His optics glowed with approval when Pong sat next to him. "Friends, this is Pong. He's new to our group."

"Welcome, Pong." they said in unison.

Strike Back laid a heavy hand on Pong's shoulder. "I can't tell you all how good it is to sit here among brothers and sisters from our own homeworld. Perhaps Imp, you'd share some of your poetry with us tonight?"

"Happy to do so, Brother Strike Back."

"Such a treat. First, Delta, my dear, perhaps you'd like to share with us things you've discovered over the week?"

The femme warrior solemnly shook her head. "All's more or less good on the Racing Beast. Unless, of course, Improve has anything to add.

He too shook his head. "I know the Witwicky girl was transferred elsewhere. So was Daniel Witwicky after some weird incident."

"What incident?" Strike Back asked.

"Some fight over his rights to use a digipad or datatablet. Rumor says he was using his to hack into other people's pads."

Delta laughed. "He such a clot!"

Other chuckles bounced from the circle and Strike Back grinned. "Colt! What have you to tell us?"

"All's the norm on my side. Just drills and recon. Drills and recon."

Strike Back pointed left. "Jacket?" Strike Back watched him shake his head. "Nothing?" he laughed. "In a fleet of nineteen ships and about a thousand Autobots and Pratrons, nothing is going on?"

Skipper raised his hand and lowered it when Strike Back pointed at him. "Um, I'm sure everyone already knows about the fight on the Confiscator." A few members shook their heads. "Well, I thought... well, maybe Silverbolt zipped everyone's lip components-"

"Out with it, Skipper!" Strike Back ordered.

"Six guys tried to take control of the Confiscator couple days ago. Rodimus came and put two of them in medbay with broken hands and legs." Skipper nodded when Delta and Pong gasped. "He tossed someone else into the brig and appointed newbies to the bridge."

The room stiffened with silence until Strike Back's voice brought the group out of shock. "Wow. It's uh... not exactly like either Prime to resort to violence to get a point across. I mean, is it just me, or does it seem like Optimus and Rodimus are losing their grip on reality? I dunno, seems to me like our leaders may not have the capacity to lead us much longer. Or, um, am I the only one who feels that way?" Strike Back carefully scanned around him and read his follower's faces. Their contemplative silence provided the only answer he needed. Drox raised his hand a moment later and Strike Back pointed at him, glad someone pushed the moment forward.

"Rusti Witwicky discovered Orca's body buried in the Sunset Kummya."

Delta frowned. "That little girl is spooky."

"Yeah..." Colt agreed. "Whaddo we know about her?"

"Not enough," Jacket answered.

Linear drained his flagon. "She's staying with Optimus Prime on the Crested Moon." His gossip was rewarded by gasps and avid interest.

Strike Back looked impressed. "Nicely done, Linear. See? That's what we want: inside information. Do you have anything more to tell us, Linear?"

"Not at the moment, no. She doesn't interact with anyone on the Moon."

Colt winced. "What's her connection to the Primes? Why is she so special? What do we know about her?"

"They raised her," Delta answered a little coldly.

"So?" Colt challenged. "They raised her looney father."

"Yeah," Delta agreed. "But they didn't treat Mr. Ankle-Biter like a national treasure." Several soft chuckles followed Delta's new name for Daniel.

Strike Back waited for more input but the circle fell wordless. "Well," he said at length, "I'd like to know more about her. How 'bout everyone else?" They nodded. "Great! So, Imp, how about that poem? And then we can close with a song?"

The Sagittarian Mozart

Magnus thought himself among the more independent, resourceful, reliable Autobots out there. For thousands of years, he led Autobots in Optimus' absence. Sometimes Magnus had to remind himself he was not invincible; that even the mighty elephant has problems with the mouse.

Magnus' mouse, however, came in the form of leaves, stalks, vines and moss. Calling Rodimus for aid meant the Major-general actually had no other options.

Magnus growled into his personal comline from the Mozart to the Horizon. "Rodimus, if you don't come and lend me a hand, I _swear_ I will use whatever blackmail I have on hand to publicly humiliate you."

Lounging in his quarters, Rodimus lowered the latest recon report in hand and tried not to laugh. "Aw, come _on_, Magnus. Would type of blackmail could you _possibly_ have over me? Half the fleet already knows about my stint in Mexico. And _everyone_ knows about Ambassador Shavalam. That's nothing new."

"Two words, Rodimus: _Victor Drath_."

Rodimus knew Magnus was not talking about the weapons dealer himself, but the incident with the plutonium. He tabled the tablet and glared at nothing. "Yeah, you _would_ bring that up."

"Bring Galvatron with you." Magnus swiftly added. He knew Rodimus would do anything once he mentioned Victor Drath. "I know it's not an assumption to say that you consider him expendable."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that," Roddi snarled. He finished pouring through three recon reports before deciding it time to rescue the Magnus In Distress.

Rodimus seethed as he transformed and raced through the Horizon. While they waited on further forensics on the murder victim, Galvatron worked with a group of EDC staff on inventory. Rodimus strongly disliked such nitty-gritty work and he figured it was the best way to keep Galvatron busy and as miserable as possible.

He found the Decepticon standing before a secured shelf, tapping into a digipad. Captain Adorjan Sibert stood on Galvatron's left shoulder, counting large and small boxes in his native alien language.

Rodimus quietly approached Galvatron from the right and waited for Sibert to finish his row. "Hey," he said without malice. He shook his head when Galvatron grinned. The Decepticon met his optics without expectation. Rodimus peered at Sibert. "Uh, I need to borrow Galvatron, if that's alright."

The EDC officer shot Rodimus a glare. "We're in the middle of inventory... _Sir_."

"Yeah. I see that. You're doing a fab job. But I need to talk to your make-shift stepping stool here." Rodimus waited for Galvatron to hand his digipad to Arcee and left Sibert on the shelf. They found a quiet corner and Galvatron let Rodimus do all the talking.

"Look, uh... Magnus wants us to rescue him on the Mozart. I'm told something's gone really wrong with the plants from the alien ship." Galvatron only nodded. Rodimus inwardly cringed over the awkward moment. "Look... I'm not going to apologize for uh...being an _arschloch_."

A small smile touched Galvatron's lip components. "You can use the American term, Rodimus, I get it. I don't find a reason to tease you about using Earthen references."

Roddi's expression hardened. "Oh, that's such a relief. All right, flyboy, I won't hold back: I'm not going to apologize for being a dick."

Galvatron nodded. "I can respect that."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. How much hell have I dished out? Hmm?"

"Quite a bit."

"See? There's your answer. You want my hide for a livingroom rug. Perfectly understandable. And now you want me to help you trim the lawn over at Magnus' territory. I don't have a problem with that."

Rodimus had no idea why he felt so relieved. Maybe the fact that Galvatron held no grudge against him-effectively _forgiving_ him made the moment easier. "Temporary truce?" he offered.

"Yes!" Galvatron shrugged. "Least until I find another way to annoy you, certainly."

The Dancing Siren

_Click. Whirrrrr. Clank. Squeak. Crunch. Click. Whirrrrr. Clank. Squeak. Crunch._ Sunstreaker hated every sound that betrayed his movements. _I used to be beautiful_, he kept telling himself. Sunny made sure to walk behind Crossy and Sideswipe as they traveled from Deck Two to Deck Five. While it was nice to move and hang with his brother again, Sunstreaker couldn't shake his shame. He desperately wanted to turn into a tendril of smoke and dissipate completely.

"Here we are!" Crossy declared. "Rec Room Four. I reserved it just for us." She took one step over the threshold when Sideswipe's hand blocked her from entry. She stepped back, arms crossed, optics set with irritation.

"Look," Sideswipe said with determination. "I get it that you're just doing your job. But my brother and me don't need a tagging babysitter. How about a little space? I'll even pay for you to leave us be for a couple of hours."

"Bribery doesn't work on me, Sideswipe. And all you had to do was _ask nicely_. I'm not a tape recorder, you know." she watched his optics as he searched the ceiling for a sense of self discipline. Doublecross knew the situation was difficult for the two of them. But she had orders. On the other hand, she respected that Sideswipe nearly lost his brother. She glanced at Sunny's disfigured form. "Okay. How about two hours?"

"Four."

"Two and a half."

"Three." Sideswipe countered.

"Done."

"Thanks." He watched her go with dread building in his heart. Pulling up a quick smile he turned to Sunny. "How about that?" he shined, "got rid of the nanny!" he nodded toward the room. "Come on."

The Twins worked twenty minutes on Sunstreaker's physical exercises before boredom took over. They settled quietly on the floor against the wall furthest from the door. Sideswipe rolled a light ball between his hands and fingers and stared into nothing. Sunny said very little. His energy level lay docile.

At length Sideswipe visually examined his battered brother. He looked positively awful. The physical structure barely functioned proficiently. One optic flickered off and on. The faceplate garbled his words. He squeaked and snapped at every move.

"Go 'n say it." Sunny grumped. "I look like smelt.

Sideswipe averted his optics. "You almost died, Sunny. Made me an only lonely. I don't care what you look like. You're here-"

"And a laughing stock."

Sideswipe grimaced. "It yanks corroded bearings, Bro. But I still got my brother and I don't care if you've been shoved into a turtle shell. Y'know?"

Sunstreaker lifted his optics. His fingers, little more than gears and rods, opened and closed. "This isn't _me_. I'm not me anymore."

Sides gently nudged him. "Of course you are," he smiled. "You're just a little under the weather at the moment-"

"Not the point, Sides," Sunny snapped. "I look like a cursed set of K'nex. Seriously!"

Sideswipe glared. The construction toy analogy fit too well. "It's only a temp situation, Sunny. And no one will care how badly you look as long as you're alive. That's ultimately what counts."

Sunstreaker laughed bitterly. "Right. We go anywhere public at all and all optics will be right here: 'Eeewe, lookit the robotic freak!' You an' me can go join that Circus of the Dark, Swipes." Sunstreaker cringed when his brother gripped him about the shoulders. He sneered when Sides peered hard into his optics.

"Stop," Sideswipe ordered gently. "I'm telling you it's only temporary. Not more than a couple days ago I was watching you die. Is that what you want? Cuz it's not what I want for you!"

"_As if it mattered_," Streaker countered. "I've not been a laughing stock since Vetty's death. And now _this_." he waved his hands along his shell.

Sides covered his mouth and sank back, shocked that after such a long time, his brother mentioned their sister's name.

If Sideswipe had something to answer to that, it fell by the wayside when a mech and two femmes stepped into the rec room, completely heedless of its present occupants.

"Here we go!" one femme declared. "It's just perfect for hanging out."

Sideswipe recognized Trixy's easy-going voice. He peered over exercise equipment and spotted her, Jacket and Quill then ducked back. "Smelt!" he hissed. "We were supposed to have this room to ourselves for four hours!"

Sunstreaker shook his head and for a moment, Sideswipe saw a fraction of his real brother under the gangly robotic ware. "Just go and..." Sunstreaker interrupted himself. A weird light touched the outer corner of his right optic. Sideswipe dimmed his optics, uncertain and uneasy. Sunstreaker pushed himself to his unsteady feet.

"What are you doing?" Sideswipe rasped. "Get back down! I'll make them leave."

"Make them leave?" Sunny's voice strained with the volume. "Why, Swipes, that's not so nice. We're all friends here!

Trixy found them to her right. "Oh, we're sorry!" she called out. "We didn't know anyone was here. We'll come back later-"

"Not at all!" Sunstreaker objected. "There's always enough room for more players. Isn't that right, Sideswipe?" Sunny grabbed the ball from his brother and twirled it between his hands. "Volleyball?" he tilted his head in a slight smile as the three newcomers exchanged a glancing agreement among them.

Sideswipe set up the net. He didn't like this one bit but if the game kept Sunny's misery at bay for a while, then maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. He offered Trixy to start the game when Crossy popped in.

"Oh! Hello! Game?"

"Why, yes!" Streaker answered smoothly. "Swipes an' me here could use an even-steven player, Doublecross. Come along, Sweetness."

Sideswipe glared at his brother. "Will you knock it off?" he hissed.

"What?"

"You're acting weird!"

Sunstreaker shrugged. "My not-so-freakish-looking brother seems to think I'm acting strangely." and he laughed. "Really, Sides. You just need to shake the tension." Sunny rolled the ball to Trixy then waved his hands toward himself, beckoning her to start.

Doublecross caught Sideswipe's worried expression as she took the center back behind the Twins. Trixy popped the volley. Sideswipe sent it back.

Quill palmed it back.

Sunny rebounded.

Trixy caught it from her side.

Crossy saved the Twins.

Jacket slammed the ball, Crossy ran after the runaway sphere.

Sunny rubbed his hands together. "Nice job, Jacket!" he crooned. "Perhaps next time I'll cut your arm off and slap you with it." He shrugged at the disgust his peers shared in their expressions.

Without a word, Trixy started the next round. She hit too high and the ball flew out of bounds. Crossy jogged after.

"Fetch, Crossy, fetch!" Sunny quipped. "Such a good little Monsterbot! Would you like a monster munchie?"

Sideswipe stared at his brother in disbelief. Crossy started the next volley.

Jacket popped the ball up, Quill sent it over.

Sunny used the sides of both fists and slammed the ball into Jacket's face. "Whoops! Guess that went a little wild!" he ignored the glare as Jacket caught the ball and bounced it twice.

"Isn't that an automatic point?" Jacket asked. His glare turned icy.

Sunstreaker tilted his head. "I dunno. I'm just the court freak. Whaddya think, Swipes?"

Sideswipe kept his expression neutral. "I think it's a foul, Sunstreaker. They get the ball."

Sunstreaker waved his hand under. "See? There you are: a foul."

Trixy set the volley again.

Doublecross kissed it back with the tips of her fingers.

Quill pumped it up and Jacket sent it over.

Sideswipe bumped it with his fists and Streaker slapped it so hard its impact knocked Quill off her feet. The ball bounced the floor and hit the wall as Jacket approached the net.

"What the pitt was that?" he growled.

"What?" Streaker challenged.

"You got a problem or something, Sunstreaker? Cuz you're a little off."

"Oh," Sunny whined in feigned self pity. "_Must_ you pick on the freak? Why not take it out on the Monsterbot, instead? Hmm? She's just as fugly." he gazed at Crossy over his shoulder. "Too tall, too big... no class whatsoever."

Crossy about lost her patience. "Shut up, Sunstreaker." she spit.

"You know what?" Jacket growled, "take your game and shove it up your pipe. See ya later, Sideswipe. Come on, girls."

"That's right!" Sunny called after. "Just keep walking, Jacket, you fragging cowardly little smudge! I've already made reservations for you in the Pitt; your very own little kiln, Jacket, with a special flux to wash out organic waste from your tailpipe!"

Jacket ducked the net and came scant inches from Sunny's face. "You're _smelting_ lucky I have enough restraint to empathize with your current condition, Streaker. I don't bother picking fights with someone who's suffering from head sludge."

Jacket never saw it coming. The ground hit him. Sunstreaker's fingers drilled into his chestplate. An eerie, unnatural light flared from the Autobot's optics-

_But he's just a skeleton of a creature!_

A high pitched squeal emanated from Sideswipe's brother. It wasn't until something broke inside Jacket that he realized the attack was real, with deadly intent. "GET HIM OFF ME!"

They tried. Crossy, Sideswipe and Quill tugged and pulled with all their strength. Sunstreaker growled and screeched. He clawed Jacket's face and left deep gouges from optics to jawline.

Crossy let go, leapt in front of Sunny and stunned him with her weapon. The Dancing Siren's alarms blared. Sunstreaker passed out in his brother's arms while Trixy dashed out the room for help. Crossy stepped to the doorway to notify Captain Jemal of the incident.

The Sagittarian Mozart

"Sheriff Rodimus an' his deputy, Galvatron 'r here t' help out. So, what seems to be the problem, Ma'am?" Rodimus tipped an invisible hat at Magnus.

The Major-general's face turned to stone. "If this is supposed to be funny, it's not working, Rodimus."

"Well, Ma'am, not to worry. Whatever rod is up yours, me an' my deputy can find a way to get you some relief. All we need is a posse."

Magnus' optics flared with annoyance. "_Just once_ can't you _pretend_ that you're an adult?"

Galvatron tilted his head toward Roddi. "Very sad. Classic symptoms of denial, no doubt due to shock and overtaxing stress. I suggest you take the young lady here to a quiet and serene corner while we handle the situation."

Rodimus feigned surprise. "Should that include a tranquilizer, Mister Galvatron?"

"I was going to suggest a place with lace and flowers... a cup of _tea_. Maybe some chocolate... laced with _ibuprofen_." Galvatron kept his expression professional.

Rodimus paused, amazed Galvatron knew so much -well, he did spend time on Earth. He protruded his lower lip component and nodded. "Midol?" he guessed.

"Mmm. I was thinking more like Pamprin."

If ignorance was bliss, Magnus should be the happiest person on his own ship. He crossed his arms and glared.

"RIGHT!" Rodimus clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "So what's the plan?"

Magnus frowned. "I have no idea. None. The ship has been all but taken over-"

"What of the crew?" Galvatron asked simply.

"Again, I don't know. Communications are cut to a bare minimum. Ship-wide com is down. Person-to-person is limited by a range of two decks."

Rodimus stared. "Well, that's weird."

Magnus' lip components twitched. "You don't know the half of it."

"Have you had the plant life examined?"

Magnus glared at Rodimus. "I've not had time, Rodimus. This _forest_ came to life, obviously starting from the nursery on Deck Five."

"How many 'bots do you have on hand?" Galvatron followed.

Magnus calmed. "Twenty." He kept his face blank but enjoyed the surprise reflected off the two jokers' faces. "So... suggestions are welcome-er-" he held his palm against Rodimus, "_serious_ suggestions, Rodimus. I'm in no mood for clowning around."

You never are, Magnus, that's what makes you so much fun. Seriously, however, I'd say we need a big can of Round_Up_. Guess I left my handy-dandy stash back on Earth. And I assume you've shot the plants a few times."

"Incendiary blast. Red lasers, _fire_, weed killer. We kill some of it, it comes right back."

"It grows back?" Galvatron echoed. "Sounds like you haven't found the true source."

"I told you," Magnus retorted sternly, "the source came from the nursery on Deck Five."

"It originated from Deck Five," Galvatron agreed, "that doesn't mean that's where the plants are coming from _now."_

Magnus snorted.

A scratch-patter rustled in the room and Magnus' posture turned stiff. Galvatron and Rodimus glanced everywhere. Nothing moved until Magnus cried out and landed on his back. A large bush tapped over his chest and Rodimus leaned closer when he heard it giggle.

"What the hell?" he asked. WHOMP! Rodimus landed on his back with a resounding clang. He tried to pry the shrub off his face and rolled until it let go. The bush tumbled toward the door, pulled itself up on its roots and barked at them. It skittered off and Roddi rolled back over and propped himself up on elbows.

"You've got yourself a little problem, Mags," he understated.

Magnus glared.

They waited twenty minutes for all personnel within communication range to find their way to shuttle bay two. Magnus requested status reports while Galvatron and Rodimus hung back and let the Major-general do what made him feel more in control of a bizarre situation. Galvatron leaned against the wall, arms crossed and turned slightly to Rodimus.

"Have you thought that maybe your pet Virus did this?"

"Void?" Rodimus cringed at the thought. "No." he shook his head. "No."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Cuz the plants attacked Magnus. That's funny. The Virus doesn't have a sense of humor."

Galvatron absently nodded. "The Sagittarian Mozart has how many decks?"

"Ten."

"Good."

Magnus stepped backwards toward them as he finished his dissertation. "Any questions?" he asked. When no one offered, Magnus glanced at Rodimus and hoped the Autobot leader was not going to make an idiot of himself. He hung back as Roddi stepped forward.

"Alright, looks like we have a situation that's more like something from a bad cartoon series than our usual brand of 'ah,-shit,-whaddo-we-do-now'."

Magnus covered his face, mortified.

Rodimus continued, "And obviously, all the tried-and-true hasn't worked; not even foul language, per our esteemed and stoic Ultra Magnus." the smiles Rodimus received told him the Autobots were more at ease. "SO!" he added. "We need to be more creative. First of all, we need more IN-FOR-MATION. We'll marry off into teams of two and comb through the ship one deck at a time. We'll meet and greet back here in three hours. We'll wine, dine, whine and cry aaaaand... come up with something that will save the day. Questions? Commentary? Senseless advice?" Rodimus almost dismissed the group when he found Galvatron's hand raised. "Galvatron?"

"Well, it's more of a _statement_ than a question, Your Roddiness."

Rodimus didn't know how to take the new name. "Okay," he accepted.

"It occurred to me that the plant-or plural thereof-displays some sort of intellect. I mean, it has a thing for Magnus, most certainly-and who wouldn't? Be that as it may, I suggest we try not to piss it off."

Magnus' glare intensified. "_I'm_ the one that's pissed, Galvatron," he growled.

Galvatron pointed at him, "see? You react rather than _interact_, Ultra Magnus. Let that be a lesson, to you, mechs and femmes. Why don't we just talk to it?"

Magnus turned to his group, "company, pair off. Rendevous three hours. Dismissed!" He swung back to Galvatron. "You're stirring trouble. I don't need anymore trouble. You hear me?"

"Sure."

"I'm taking deck four-_alone_. You two can take Deck Seven." Magnus stomped off.

Galvatron and Rodimus watched the Major-general disappear through a corridor darkened by dripping vines. Galvatron pursed his lip components. "He's going to blast the plants."

"Yup," Roddi agreed.

"They're going to kick his aft."

"Yup."

"We should have rigged the ship's internal camera system."

Rodimus grinned but kept the secret to himself.

Thorn-strewn vines infested Deck Seven. Not that it bothered Galvatron or Roddi, but the five personnel they encountered complained of bad scratches on their exostructure. Worse still, the vines produced globules filed with a sticky resin. Stepping on the vines resulted with splatters of the weird smelling, unremovable substance.

Shark, former security officer from Fort Draco briefly explained how the alien plants plucked people off their feet and tucked them into pockets and crevices in the walls. Apparently no one has been injured; just inconvenienced.

Galvatron scratched the outer edges of his right audio. "Have the plants laughed at anyone?"

"Uhhh, laughed?"

"Did the vines bark at all?"

"No. But they... they slobbered."

Rodimus merely stared a moment longer. The situation shifted from strange to abnormal. "Where is the ship's nursery, again?"

"Deck Five."

"Huh." Galvatron traced the tendrils and ropes along the walls, ceiling and floor. "I'm going out on a limb and assume that you know nothing of any reports Magnus might have received about the infestation. Is that right?"

Rodimus winced at Galvatron's pun. "You really think Magnus made a report?"

Galvatron watched Shark disappear into the safe room without a word. "Rodimus, I'm the ignoramus around here. Don't make me make fun of you. _Ultra Meticulous Magnus_ probably has a file on every scratch and dent on every crew member on this entire ship."

Shark returned with a set of digipads. He handed one to each of his betters. "I received the reports two hours before the vines took over the deck. I..." he shrugged. "I'm not science-minded. I can't make out what they're supposed to say."

Rodimus held his digipad up. "We can take these, right? You won't tattle on us?"

Shark shrugged. "Can I put together a wresting match?"

Rodimus nodded. "Send the request directly to me. I'll make it happen."

"Yes, Sir!" Shark grinned.

Rodimus smacked him on the upper arm. "Stay inside. Keep the ladies safe."

"Aye, Sir."

Rodimus led the way as he scanned his tablet, sifting through Magnus' personal inputs and critic on spelling, grammar and punctuation. It drove Rodimus nuts and sometimes he'd submit a sloppy form just to piss Magnus off. He stopped dead in his tracks, knowing that Galvatron was capable of following-or stopping-his lead. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Roddi reread three paragraphs.

"What? What is it?" Galvatron peered over the Autobots shoulder strut and made a mental note to let Magnus know that _reinquistion_ was not a real word.

"The report here says the plant composition isn't cellulose but of a mineral polymer and an elastomer hydrocarbon."

Galvatron processed the information then reprocessed it. "The plants are silicon-rubber life forms?"

"Apparently. That's why they grow back so easily."

Galvatron lightly shrugged. "Also explains how they're intelligent. Makes sense."

Rodimus nodded. "But where or what is their energy source? The ship doesn't seem to be affected at all."

"That we know of," Galvatron added. He visually traced the vines again while he and Rodimus contemplated the answer. "Erm... Rodimus, what do these ships run on?"

"Bipolarized protonic antimatter. Why?"

Galvatron nodded. "And what do you use to generate your shields?"

"Inverted hydro...carbon... plasma. Oh crap."

Galvatron nodded. "Which can be converted into ultra-violet light and condensed-"

"-into plasma isotopes." they both finished.

Rodimus forced a smile. It meant that the plants were feeding off the ship's shields and most likely the generators were down. "Nice."

The Crested Moon

Rusti sank into rare luxury. Hot water surrounded her like a warm blanket on a snowy day. All the tension lodged in her frame for months melted out of her. Pure bliss.

Optimus sat beside her and signed sixteen pads, authorizing or denying requests. The silence between them drifted into forty minutes of comfort. Rusti thought she could sleep enveloped in delicious, soothing warmth. But her head started asking questions and wondered about things. After fighting the urge to dispel the quiet, Rusti gave in and asked a question.

"Optimus?"

"Hm?"

"What happened on Monicus?"

He lowered the digipad and gazed at her. _I fought my way to get back to you_, was his first thought. "Not enough to complain about, Rusti." he answered softly. How did you know about Monicus?"

"Something Galvatron let slip. Something about _ladies_ and a bomb boss and you blowing out an entire wall. Wanna reiterate on that?"

"No."

"Optimus," she eyed him sternly. "You asked about Laserbeak. I get to hear about the wall. Turnabout's fair play. I told mine." she waited while he held his silence. "You weren't in a bar fight were you, Optimus?" he squirmed and slightly shrugged. Rusti almost laughed. "Ohmigod! You _were_ in a bar fight! Hah! How many fights in bars does that make?"

He dipped his helm to the right. "Finished... or started?"

Her first reaction was to deny that her Optimus never picked a fight. But she reconsidered and realized it was silly and childish to think Optimus was above picking fights. "Both," she replied.

He thought about it briefly while his finger tapped the side of his digipad. "I'd say close to three hundred. Give or take maybe twenty."

"Three hundred?" she marveled.

"Well, I was a bouncer for a while."

Rusti batted her eyes. "So you were a career trouble maker."

"I was not a trouble maker," he quietly objected.

"Optimus, you do not need to make trouble to find it; often it finds-and makes-you."

He tucked the pad aside, wiggled into a more comfortable position and focused on her. "Galvatron, Cyclonus and I were going to be sold to a slave master. I was ill. Galvatron had been poisoned and Cyclonus was the only one rational between us. I started the fight. Cyclonus got us weapons. I blew out the back wall and we escaped."

She nodded. "Huh. Just... blew a sizable hole in the wall?"

"no, no. no, no. I blew the entire thing. Never do half a job.

"Right."

"So I had to blow the entire thing," he repeated.

"Of course you did."

"I impressed Galvatron."

"That's not hard to do."

"Considering the state he was in? No, it wasn't hard." Prime's optics shined with the memory. "He was so intoxicated."

"I thought you said he was poisoned."

"He was. But he acted drunk." Optimus paused before his voice softened. "And the things he said..."

She waited but he said nothing more. To keep the conversation going, Rusti pieced another question. "What was either your favorite bar fight or the most memorable?"

"When I first met Ultra Magnus," Optimus answered without hesitation.

Rusti puzzled. "I thought you've always known Ultra Magnus."

"Oh... Primus, no. I did not meet Magnus until Megatron mysteriously disappeared. The Decepticons were leaderless and most of them were unwilling to follow Shockwave. So Magnus took up the role-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rusti made a 'T' with her hands. "Magnus took up the role as a Decepticon leader?" Optimus' demeanor drew dead silence. Rusti waited for an explanation but all she received was the guilt on Prime's expression. "Ohmigod, Optimus... are you saying Magnus-_our_ _Ultra Magnus_ is a Decepticon?"

"Was," Optimus meekly confirmed. "He changed allegiances long ago."

The next bout of silence permitted Rusti time to draw another conclusion. "He's secretly a triple-changer."

"Yes."

"That's his original form?"

"Yes. Had he not defected, Magnus would have been Megatron's second in command rather than Starscream."

"How many people know of his changed allegiances?" Rusti tried not to consider the repercussions regarding Magnus' revelation. Questions no doubt tumbled from everyone's lips-Autobots and Humans alike.

"Four-that I know of. Rodimus, Kup, myself... Galvatron. I do not know of Cyclonus."

Rusti guessed Rodimus found out through the Matrix. Her eyes drifted out the windows and decided she had enough of the bath. She stood and reached for her towel when Optimus handed it to her. Rusti smiled sweetly with gratitude and carefully stepped out. As she approached her bed, the bathtub slid into the floor as though it were never there.

Rusti picked out the only comb in her possession and carefully untangled her hair. "You know, Optimus, that explains the poem Magnus recited to me a long time ago."

"Poem?"

"Something about a warrior."

Prime dunked his head, perplexed. "Magnus recited poetry?"

"I can't remember how it goes," she confessed. "But I remember it was cool and... I guess patriotic."

"I did not know Ultra Magnus knew poetry."

Rusti ignored him while digging her brain for memories. "It was Shatra-something." she bounced the comb in the air and concentrated until all she drew was a big nothing. Well, anyway, it explains a lot about it him. I wonder what convinced him to change sides."

"That, Sweetheart, is something I'm sure he'd rather keep to himself."

She nodded with agreement. The brief comfort quiet led her from thoughts of Magnus to Optimus. "Speaking of keeping things personal, Optimus, how are you? How are you feeling?"

"Better than I have been in a very long time," he answered quietly.

"Nightmares?"

He solemnly nodded and averted attention elsewhere.

She fixed her eyes on him a moment before slipping off the bed. She beckoned him, "come here." He neared as though expecting to hear a whispered secret. Rusti touched her lips to his faceplate just below the top fold then kissed him again along line. "I wish there was a way I could make you happy. I wish I could make all the bad things in your life disappear. I am sorry that the best I can do is listen, that I can't fix it, too."

"I don't need you to fix things, Rusti. You do far more for me than I can express with a few words."

She nodded, understanding. But she held onto her wish.

They ate and watched a bad remake of _Crocodile Dundee_. Optimus signed a few digipads for reports he forwarded to Rodimus while Rusti doodled on her precious drawing tablet. Two-thirds into the movie, Optimus slumped into sleep mode. Rusti tapped into one of three music stations Blaster currently ran for the fleet. No techno but he did play classical. It was better than the 'screaming' rock he liked so much. Rusti wasn't into country, either so she listened to Bach and bits of Beethoven and Claud Debussy. Strauss wasn't so bad, either.

At one point Rusti too fell asleep. Dark things and fleeting shadows splattered across her mind in a jumble of confused images and unnatural sounds. Voices spoke with half sentences and slurred words. One distinguished voice filtered through it all, sweeping Rusti out of the noise of her dreams and back to the present. Batting her eyes against the Crested Moon's exterior lighting, she sat up and listened closely. The sound milked through the air in soft resonance; a gentle blend of baritone melodies and sharp mechanical tones.

Optimus lay where he fell asleep some time ago. But he hummed, obviously not conscious of it. She picked out the notes, uncertain if she knew the song or not. One note lifted slightly then carried and dropped. Hum. Drop. Stop. Hum. Drop. Stop. Sad, plaintive, slow.

Optimus' left fingers curled slowly inward. The song in his dreams faded and Rusti frowned, wondering what haunted him. She turned away, disappointed.

He hummed again, the notes and tones came more pronounced. She turned as he slowly woke and shivered.

_...cause God's stopped keeping score..._

_Did you cover your eyes when they told you_

_that he can't come back cuz he has no children to come back for..._

Rusti caught the song and added "_hanging onto hope when there's no hope to speak of... and the wounded skies above say it's much too late. So maybe we should all be praying for time..."_

He nodded. "I don't remember the song, Rusti."

"Praying for Time, Optimus. By George Michael. Don't ask me the year. It was a thousand years before I was born."

"I think it fits how I feel."

Rusti settled back on her bed and roved her eyes about his dejected posture. "Did you have a really bad dream? You woke humming the song."

He slumped and hid his head under his hands. Rusti gave him privacy as he physically expressed his inner turmoil. All his stoicism dropped and she witnessed a person with doubt and fear. _You can tell me_, she thought.

"Rusti," he whispered her name like a holy word. "I've never said a thing to anyone about..." he searched the wall beyond her. She waited. What he had to say was very important and sensitive. _"..._it was after our rescue from the Quintesson space station. I fell into the Matrix and found myself... in a place reserved for Primus. I don't know. I was there, Rusti. I've been there before. But... I was always _welcomed_ before. But that time..." he paused and stared, struggling between emotion and memory. "I've never... felt so rejected. I was nothing. I was dying and... and it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. All he talked about was the fight with Unicron... Rusti."

Now Optimus could not look at her. He found the darkest corner in the room and talked to it. "How do I come to terms with rejection by the one I believed to be God?"

The Dancing Siren

"NNNNNAAAAGHHHH!" Sunstreaker squirmed and kicked under his restraints. Apogee tried to talk him down while her sister prepared an energon shot to reduce the flow of power to his capacitors.

"SHUT UP, YOU SMELTING RUST BLOTCH!" Sunny's vocal unit approached blowout as he emitted a piercing scream. Fed up with his mouth and his behavior, Perigee slammed his head back on the flat and shot him in a tender area. That did nothing to improve his mood and he screeched another line of unrepeatable words.

First Aid stepped into the room, digipad in hand. "What by the Matrix is going on here?"

Crossy pushed herself from the opposing wall. "We have no idea. We were playing volleyball with Jacket and Trixy and Sunny started mouthing off. He purposely tried to pick a fight with Jacket, but I don't know where he got the strength-"

Sunstreaker growled, "_Enim eno seeth."_ his voice growled in a pitch far lower than his vocal unit ever sounded. "_Enim eno seeth."_ he repeated with a double voice, now; an echo that made everyone else recoil, unsettled and a little frightened.

"Put him out!" First Aid ordered.

Perigee obliged with a second shot. Sunny looked at her, his optics blazed with an eerie hatred. The femme gasped when she spotted something minuscule and black cross his right optic. It disappeared before she found her voice. He slammed his head against the flat-THONGK! THONGK! She emptied a full hypo's worth of Bienpolamed into Sunstreaker and eight seconds later, he conked out.

"This thing isn't working!" Sideswipe exclaimed. "Whatever it is, there's a... side effect or whatever and it's making him crazy. Fix it!"

"It's not a side effect," First Aid calmly answered. He tapped into the pad and handed it to Apogee. "Give me the reader, please." He took a scanner from his assistant and adjusted it to Sunstreaker's specs.

"What, First Aid?" Sideswipe demanded. "What else could it be?"

First Aid raised his optic visor from patient to impatient brother. "I will let you know when I find out, Sideswipe. Now give me some room and some _time_. Crossy, please escort him out."

"I am not leaving my brother," Sideswipe answer sternly.

First Aid slammed his pad on a nearby tray before approaching Sunny's brother. The medic stared him down. "I understand that this is hard for you. Something like this is hard for anyone. I can barely keep the Dinobots from calling me every hour to find out how Grimlock and Snarl are doing. I'm _worried_ about Optimus and Rodimus. I have twenty-six humans barely living on life support. I have twice that number of Autobots in stasis lock. Not more than three hours ago I lost Lockback and Winker. I am exhausted, frustrated, low on resources and patience. I am _asking_ you, Sideswipe, not to make my job any more difficult than it is. So please, go with Crossy. Get some rest. We will _call you_ when something happens. Did I make that clear?"

Guilt over his behavior forced Sideswipe to cast his optics to the floor. He solemnly nodded. Incapable of expressing his overwhelming anguish and worry, he headed for the door. But then he paused for a final glance at his unconscious twin. Sideswipe hurt in ways he had not experienced in a long, long time.

The Autobot warrior treaded the hall, lost in an emotional jungle. Sorting through weeds of despair, Sideswipe sawed his way through all the possibilities his imagination erected. They all ended like deadwood strewn along the ground after a hurricane. He couldn't lose Sunny. He just couldn't. Sunny was all the family he had.

"Sideswipe!" Crossy grabbed him at the arm. "Let's head to the midroom-"

"Get off me, Crossy! I don't need a fragging babysitter!" Sideswipe yanked his arm from her grip. "Just leave me the pitt alone!"

"If you didn't need a babysitter, they would not have assigned me to you. I am not going to leave just because you said so."

In half a breath, Sideswipe slammed Doublecross against the bulkhead and held his arm fast against her neck, lightly choking her. "Let's make this clearer, then," he said. "I. Don't. Need. You. I want to be left alone. You are not my brother. You cannot replace my brother and I don't need a smelting nanny."

He didn't see it coming. She cuffed his mandible with the butt of her hand then sent him sprawling with a jab to the left audio. She straddled his aft and pinned his arms. Leaning over, the Monsterbot spoke clearly, softly and slowly. "You are not my boss. And even if you were not an assignment, I'd not leave you alone, Sideswipe. Because Roddi knows if we lose one of you, we'll lose the other and I for one do not want to lose you-even if you are a pissy, two-bit mechanism in serious need of a good defrag. You're not alone in this, Sideswipe. And I'm here to make sure you remember that you have people who care. Now let's get you off the floor and to the midroom for something to eat."

She stood then picked the shorter Autobot up and half dragged him to the elevator.

The Crested Moon

The sound of mutated mosquitoes whined and sang in her ears like a badly worn engine belt. Rusti ignored the sound at the start. She pretended she did not hear voices in the ever-increasing mechanical screams.

Those same screams chanted now, syllables refined into words. The high-pitched tones dropped to comprehensive notes. The notes turned into an unknown language. The language mutated into mathematical equations. The equations reorganized themselves into a visual:

"_3÷57.√8... He never saw the whole equation."_

She woke with a start, springing up with a gasp. Rusti choked on the sudden intake of air-

_Sybifu en trainu tols. Sybifu en trainu tols._

She scrambled for her drawing tablet and wrote the words down as swiftly as they came and ended.

"Russsti?" Optimus' voice weakly disturbed the silent room.

She lifted her eyes as his optics dimmed on. Her visual focus drifted from her Love to the universe outside their windows. "I _must_ visit the alien ship, Optimus. It's talking and I can't understand what it's saying."

He slowly sat up. "I thought you had to touch a ship in order to hear it."

She could not answer him; her thoughts bounced between the ship's communique and the bizarre dream she had before their exodus from Earth.

The Vertical Horizon

Galvatron and Rodimus picked their way along a vine-entrenched corridor. They knew the deck they treaded, but not the exact location. Moss carpeted walls and doors alike. Slender young trees took root amid piles of lichen lying on the floor.

Galvatron allowed Rodimus to take the lead. He kept one optic behind them, another above. Rodimus scanned the floor and the 'space jungle' ahead. Galvatron did not miss the plants' freakish ability to grow so fast in such a short time. He paused at one slender tree as it stretched and grew another inch. "How is it that we have not yet encountered the Mozart's crew? Shouldn't there be more than a few people around here?"

"About fifty-four crew members, five hundred, some-odd passengers and Ultra Magnus." Rodimus concurred.

"Soo... perhaps they're on other decks," Galvatron watched on as the tree's bark swirled and shifted until a face appeared. _His_ face, to be exact.

"Perhaps."

Galvatron took a closer look at the tree trunk and in turn, the tree leaned forward, face peering back like a child copying the parent. He was aware Rodimus paused in his tracks and turned about face. The Decepticon lifted his right hand and wiggled his fingers in a greeting gesture.

"What are you doing?" Rodimus about grumbled.

Galvatron slightly turned his head, keeping optical contact with the tree. He grinned and the tree did the same. "Communicating... I think."

Rodimus glared. "If you're expecting it to start reciting Newtonian physics, you're going to be disappointed, Galvatron. They have to have a _meta processor_, first."

Galvatron turned, his smile never dimmed. "I knew a Decepticon who had one in his aft." He did not see the tree move four twigs that imitated his fingers.

Rodimus held up a palm. "Not going there," he sang.

"Can't say I blame you, Rodimus," Galvatron waved good-bye to the tree and the tree's branches copied the movement. "You'd have to declare yourself guilty as charged."

"Perhaps," Rodimus tossed back. "But I've always known my aft was smart-smarter than yours." He continued to maneuver over and around bundles of plant growth.

"But never as _witty_," Galvatron followed. "When your processor is stuck in third gear, you're obviously forced to compensate through pretense and grandstanding."

Rodimus halted and turned to his companion. "_Grandstanding?_" he repeated. "You're accusing me of _grandstanding?_"

Galvatron shrugged. "Can't handle that? How about _acting ostensibly_?"

Rodimus shook his finger at the Decepticon. "You know what? I am not going to talk to you for the next ten minutes. Starting _now_." Rodimus marched forward.

"It's the vocabulary, isn't it?" Galvatron tapped agilely and even flew a second to catch up. "You're upset because you probably don't even know what _ostentatious_ means."

Rodimus swung around, finger pointed in Galvatron's direction, mouth open. But he remembered what he just said and silently glared.

Galvatron nodded, his face locked in a smile. He grinned openly when Prime again turned about face and marched onward.

Four minutes ticked into seven. Seven minutes stretched into twelve. Twelve minutes and counting... Galvatron's patience dropped like a wet sponge. He lifted into the air and landed two yards from Rodimus. "You're two minutes overdue."

Rodimus abruptly stopped again. "What's that?" he challenged. "The mighty Galvatron is undone by a simple silent treatment? Not as tough as you think you are. Ha! I could do this all day, needling my way under your exostructure without so much as a single word! I WIN!"

Galvatron opened his mouth for another retort when the vines along the walls slithered and rustled with movement. The two mechs stood still, waiting for the attack. No attack came. The vines wove their way in and out, back and forth, tightening and folding until Rodimus' face appeared in three-dimensional greenery.

Roddi stood there, staring with blank befuddlement. "Okay. Not something I see everyday." To further their amazement, Roddi and Galvatron watched as the imitated lip components moved as though speaking.

Galvatron lightly smacked Rodimus' arm. "Say something again. Keep it simple."

"Like what?"

The vine-crafted copy moved its 'lips' the same way.

Galvatron pointed to the 'vegitation face'. "Exactly like that. It's trying to communicate."

Rodimus frowned-and so did his leafy counterpart. "That's special. But uhh... kinda hard to speak when you have no voice." He watched the vine mimic his facial expressions. Rodimus held up his hands and spread his fingers outward, "sound effects!" he told it. Other vines snaked out of the nest and braided themselves into imitation hands. They too copied Rodimus' movements.

Galvatron made a visual scan, looking for another corridor. "Don't you have someone who knows plant life languages?"

"Botany doesn't come with a Webster's Dictionary, Galvatron. And before you ask, no, we don't have any psychologists or psychics who specialize in... _Vaganese_... hey, what are you doing?"

Galvatron approached the face of vines and searched until he found a root. He tugged on it without breaking and spoke into it like a microphone. "Hellllooo! We need to speak to someone who's in charge, please!"

Rodimus looked annoyed. "Oh give me a fragging break! Do you honestly expect a _plant_ to conjure a synthesizer? It's an _alien plant_, Galvatron! Carrot sticks do not speak! And there's no brain-"

Rodimus cut himself off when a tangle of vines along the right side wall draped apart. He glared at the Decepticon before leading into the darkened corridor.

"Where does this go?" Galvatron asked after they traveled six minutes.

"Um, I'm a little turned-around. So-"

"You don't know," Galvatron finished. Rodimus grunted. "As I recall, Magnus said the plants started on deck seven, didn't he?"

"Uh, I don't quite-" Rodimus paused again when he spotted light seeping from a damaged set of double doors. He pointed to it and the two of them quietly approached. Rodimus pried open the door to his right and stumbled forward when it snapped in two. A heavy, thick vine snapped up and arched like a threatened snake. Galvatron drew his rifle to cover Prime.

"Wait!" Rodimus called. "I'm all right."

They watched the vine shrink and worm its way backward to the center of the room. Galvatron and Rodimus visually traced the vine until their optics beheld a great, broad tree. It squatted squarely on top of the Mozart's force field generator. Its thick, giant crown garnished the trunk like a leafy umbrella. The great tree's roots sprawled the room and braided among the vines. Clumps of lichen dangled from its branches like wind chimes while moss padded the floor, walls and ceiling. Both mechs surveyed the room as though transported onto an alien world.

Galvatron put his weapon away. "I do not think your Round_up_ will fix this, Rodimus." He ignored Prime's glower.

"_Rounduprounduproundup."_

The source of the garbled voice evaded both Galvatron and Rodimus. Roots and vines slithered and wiggled everywhere. Rodimus cringed. He huffed when Galvatron took a brave step forward, right hand held up.

"Hi!" the Decepticon greeted cheerily. "We're here to find out how to get you off this ship."

"Don't talk to it like that!" Rodimus reprimanded. "You'll tick it off."

Galvatron glared over his shoulder. "As if it speaks our language... or rather, yours."

"_Speakslanguage. Language, language, language._" Galvatron's mouth dropped open when the tree's base split horizontally. The wood curved and reshaped itself into a mouth. The leaves atop rattled and vibrated.

Rodimus, who also stared in awe, joined Galvatron. "I think you're right, Galves. I think there's more to this thing than creepy vines and barking bushes."

"_Name! Name! Ssss. Here. Me. I. Ssss... yes! Yes! I have a name._" the wooden lips moved clumsily at first. The roots and vines snapped and flopped about the floor as the tree struggled to communicate.

Galvatron planted his hand on his chest. "I am Galvatron. This is Rodimus. We will not hurt you."

Rodimus took that a step further: "We're sorry if we have."

"_Ogbower. I...I. Here. Ogbower."_

A root floundered across Rodimus' feet. He jerked away, startled. The root tried again. Galvatron forced the Autobot to stand still. "I think that's how it's learning from us, Rodimus. I suggest you just deal with the physical contact." Ignoring Prime's acid glare, he turned to the tree. "Ogbower, I am Galvatron. What do you need?"

"A can of high octane and some bad TV," Rodimus snarled.

The vines and roots retreated, clearing a path between the tree and the broken doorway. Ogbower displayed no eyes or ears. Galvatron figured the tree's vines and root system was its way of comprehending its surroundings. Ogbower did not speak until all its roots retreated around the base. That, of course, only made the life form that much creepier. _"I... I am. I am Ogbower. We are not on Auvee 463._"

Galvatron tilted his head to the right. "Is that the alien ship?"

"No. Might be their destination." Rodimus raised his voice and spoke carefully. "No, Ogbower. You are on an Autobot ship. We found your ship drifting in space." He frowned, doubting the simple life form had the capacity to understand a long sentence.

"_Memory is unclear. They attacked. We drifted."_

"Who attacked?" Rodimus pressed. He guessed the plant had the ability to speak all along but that it took time to learn to speak in Autobot.

"_No names. No names. Much screaming. Sad. Life pods stolen. Children stolen. Rausk set the communication. I watched him perish."_

Rodimus shook his head. "Might have been pirates." Galvatron wordlessly nodded. Rodimus berated himself for not thinking sooner; he flipped on his external communicator and tuned it for Ultra Magnus to hear their conversation. "Ogbower, we love how you've redecorated the ship. Green is groovy. But on the more serious side of things, we can't keep any pets. Is there a place you'd like to live? Uh, a cozy asteroid, or some remote planetoid... Middle Earth, maybe?" he grinned when Galvatron covered his own eyes.

"_I... I make a ship. Go myself."_

Rodimus stared, confused and uncertain. "Huh. Um... you're going to build a ship here?"

"_Yes."_

"Out of our... ship? That'd be a little expensive for us."

"_Expensive."_

Galvatron translated: "We need our ship."

Ogbower did not answer right away. Root tips slowly wiggled restlessly as the alien plant appeared to think things through. "_Assistance required for manufacturing."_

Rodimus and Galvatron made their way toward the elevators. All the plants shrank and disappeared, wriggling, snaking and walking their way back to the tree.

Rodimus attempted communication with the bridge.

"Hi there, Rodimus, it's Ambient." she sounded harried, as though it took an effort to answer him.

"How's stuff?" Rodimus asked.

"Uh, well, the bridge was... cluttered." the sound of tearing leaves and snapping twigs accompanied her answer.

"Did you guys get to have your own terrarium?"

"Yeah..."

"That's so cute. Listen, Darling, I need to locate Magnus. Can you do that for me?"

"W-well... my consol is sorta covered in moss. Am I going to get a rust rash from this?"

"Not likely. Give the moss a few-" Rodimus shot his gaze at Galvatron when Ambient squealed over the comline.

"It's moving! It's moving by itself!"

Rodimus cringed when he overheard another bridge officer call for a gun. "No! Don't shoot-" too late. The communication dissolved into static and Rodimus sighed. "Well... crap."

Galvatron nodded. "Decepticons, Quintessons and crash landings they can handle. But pit them against a patch of self-motivated moss and they fall to pieces."

Rodimus glowered. "Not helping."

Galvatron tipped his head toward the end of the corridor. "Come along. Let's find Magnus."

The elevator failed to so much as open. Rodimus stared at the double doors with a deep frown.

Galvatron leaned against the door frame. "You know, I could just fly-"

"No thanks."

"It'd be faster."

"No. No flying."

"Magnus-"

Roddi held up a hand to shut him up. "I said no. I'm not flying." The Autobot leader gazed at the right wall then the left and right again. He laid a hand on a set of three panels before choosing the middle. Prying it open, the panel led to the emergency jeffries tube. Rodimus clambered on first and led the Decepticon up a three-storey climb.

Lichen dripped moisture and Rodimus did his best not to complain about it; no sense in giving Galvatron something to tease him about. Of course, Galvatron did not bother to climb. He floated and played a private, silent game of yo-yo. He considered simply flying ahead of the stubborn Autobot who loved to do things the hard way. But Galvatron chose to respect Rodimus enough to let him do his own thing. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the tube onto Deck Four.

A thick slippery algae coated the flooring. Rodimus lost his footing immediately and landed face-first with a resounding _crunch_. Just to niggle on the Autobot's nerves, Galvatron walked/floated around him just scant centimeters above the goo.

Rodimus pushed himself up, slipped again tried once more and managed to hold position long enough to study the surroundings. Algae buttered the floor as far as he could see. But islands of moss lined the edges between wall and floor-just enough for one person to avoid the treacherous glistening goo.

Dignity well and gone, Rodimus crawled his way to the moss and stood. Algae slicked and dribbled down his whole front from the chin down. Rodimus looked as if he had eaten the stuff. He shot an acid glare at Galvatron. "Not a word of this to Prime. I swear you'll regret it."

Galvatron shrugged, palms up and open. "I did offer to fly you up." He cut himself off as Rodimus passed. The Decepticon allowed himself a small smile.

Roddi transformed and tried to drive through the goo but two inches of slime gave him no traction, no matter how he augmented his tires. Frustrated, Rodimus shifted back and walked along the mossy walls.

They passed three dark corridors until they encountered several trees blocking the rest of the way. Rodimus back-tracked and led Galvatron to the last corridor on the right. He paused and stared at the jungle of lichen dripping from the ceiling before giving Galvatron some visual attention.

"I've been trying to contact Ultra Magnus and I'm not getting an answer."

"Is he unconscious?"

"Possibly. I just hope Ogbower didn't damage him."

Galvatron lifted the left side of his face with a smile. "Of course. That's why barking shrubs are so dangerous." Rodimus failed to suppress a smile. Galvatron nodded ahead. "How about I simply fly around and locate him. It'll save time."

Finally a nod of concession. "Okay," Roddi agreed. "I need to contact the bridge again, find out what's going on."

Rodimus made six more attempts at communication before Ambient answered him again. "FINALLY!" he declared.

"Sorry, sir. The console's damaged-"

"Listen up," Rodimus ordered. "Tell everyone to stop harassing the plants."

"What?"

"It's all one organism and we need to stop trimming the hedges, Ambient. Tell everyone to stay put while we figure out what to do."

"But, Sir-"

"That's an order, Ambient!"

"Aye, sir."

Not a second after Rodimus cut communications when Galvatron popped up. He landed on the moss and wordlessly nodded toward Magnus' direction.

Two corridors on the right, one on the left and somewhere in the middle there Magnus hung, upside down and definitely out for the count. Thick strong vines cocooned him in a net and deftly separated his hands from his body.

Rodimus took an extra moment to survey the area. Dead, blackened and hacked plants smoldered, gassing the corridor with noxious fumes. Beside him, Galvatron scrunched his face with disapproval.

"This is not a Magnus in his natural habitat."

"Mmmm... park rangers recorded several complaints of someone shooting at the neighbors. I guess the neighbors took matters into their own hands." Rodimus nodded with a smirk planted on his face.

"Maintenance is going to be pissed." Galvatron cringed as a glob of smoldering lichen gathered from the ceiling and plopped on the floor in an icky, gooey mess.

Rodimus restrained his smile. "That's what Daniel Witwicky is for."

Magnus huffed, tired and cranky. "Are the two of you going to just stand there, your thumbs up your afts or are you going to get me down from here?"

Rodimus could not resist. He folded his arms and tilted his head, "Hmm. I dunno, Mags. You make an interesting conversation piece. Can I hang you up in my quarters on the Gabriel Genesis?"

"If you were ever ON your damned ship, Rodimus I MIGHT take you up on it! NOW GET ME THE HELL DOWN FROM HERE!"

Rodimus turned to Galvatron with a closed fist. "Rock Paper Scissors?" Galvatron silently laughed and bounced his fist in time with Roddi's. Both popped up Paper. "One more time."

Magnus growled impatiently. "What the hell are you two DOING down there?"

They bounced fists in air. Rodimus redid paper, Galvatron used rock. Galvatron stepped back. Rodimus drew his weapon. "Not to worry, Mags," he said smoothly. "Galvatron and I were just... negotiating your release."

Ultra Magnus grumbled under his breath then it dawned on him as Rodimus changed the settings on his rifle. "Wait!" Magnus tried to move. "Don't cut the-"

He landed with a sickening squelch and a thud. He growled and quietly set loose a string of foul words. Galvatron stepped back beside Rodimus. "Does he have... Prime insurance for such occasions?"

"Who, Mags? Doubtful. But what he lacks in finesse and paperwork, he makes up for with word and temperament."

Galvatron settled his hands on his hips. "Does that include Optimus?"

"Optimus?" Roddi studied him half a second. "No. No. Optimus is an entirely separate policy. Never quite as expensive."

Magnus pushed himself up with trembling arms. "I am going to kill the both of you myself." he snarled.

"Good to know, Magnus!" Rodimus answered cheerfully. "But for the moment, we need to take care of the plant. Its name is Ogbower and-"

"You talked to the plant?" Magnus' optics flickered bright, his face wolfish with ire.

Rodimus feigned discomfort. "Well... it was Galvatron's idea, actually."

"It was the root," the Decepticon interjected.

"He used a root to talk to the plant-"

"RODIMUS!"

"What?"

The alien plant slowly withdrew from the corridors, nooks and crevices around the ship. It could not, however, clean up those areas where ship personnel, passengers and Ultra Magnus hacked, burned and pruned. Most of the algae disappeared, also, but those floors slicked with its gooey substance still had to be mopped and waxed.

Meanwhile preparations were underway in shuttle bay two for Ogbower's hopeful departure. The alien plant requested the use of one shuttle; a means by which propelled itself through space in searched of a planet of its own choosing.

Ogbower produced apricot colored pods and instructed the Autobot workers to squeeze the contents along all the walls and ceiling in the shuttle bay area. The icky, foul-smelling substance dried and hardened into a crystalized shell.

It took a day and a half for one crew to hose down the shuttle bay with the nasty organic substance and much longer for three other crews to clean all the messes made throughout the Sagittarian Mozart.

Just as he told Galvatron, Rodimus assigned Daniel to clean the corridor where they found Magnus. Daniel didn't do the entire place alone, but he worked alone under guarded supervision. After verbally and physically assaulting two supervisors, Rodimus chose to supervise the madman himself.

"You really should be grateful for this, Dan-o." Roddi said absently. He sat on the cleaner part of the floor with a stack of digipads in front and either signed or read them.

"Oh, I'm supposed to be excited over slave labor?" Daniel sneered.

"Don't think of it as slave labor, Dan-o. think of it as time out of your cave."

"Ah, gee, Wreck-a-mus," Daniel sneered. "I feel so special. You wanna rape me, too?" He bowed clear over so Rodimus had a good view of his buttocks.

Rodimus smiled, though his optics stayed on the pad in hand. The mechanical 'diaper' was a stroke of genius and Rodimus wondered if there might be a market for them. "No thanks. Your butt is far more useful when it's worked off." Daniel only snorted and kept mopping.

Rodimus signed the current pad, authorizing minor repairs and improvements for Autobot personal quarters on the Alvarez. He set that on the second stack of finished work, picked up another pad and found it in safe mode. "What the hell is this?" he muttered. Rodimus cut communication between the pad and the fleet's intranet before he shut it down for reset. Rodimus waited thirty seconds and watched Daniel scrub his assigned panels. The digipad toned and Rodimus waited while it loaded.

The digipad toned again and at the top, the mini computer blinked:

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 REQUEST ACCESS DENIED.

With another glace at Daniel, Rodimus input his access code and requested report update on the pad and a table of entries. The digipad requested a waiting period while it compiled the necessary files. Rodimus thought it a little suspicious, but it might be that someone made an entry error and did not know how to correct it.

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 TO REQUEST SCHEMATICS FOR AUTOBOT ENGINEER KLASP.

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 REQUEST ACCESS DENIED.

Roddi's optics dimmed and narrowed. He internally contacted Magnus.

"Better be good," Magnus grumped.

Rodimus ignored his mood, "Mags, whose access code is AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018?"

"Uhhh... Redial's. Communications on the Crested Moon. Why?"

"Can't answer that. Not here and not over any channels. Meet me in my-hold on." Rodimus switched comlines. "Yours Truly," he sang out loud. He grinned at Daniel who shot him a death-glare. "Okey dokey!" he switched back. "Mags, I'm bringing you a present. Op wants me and Galvatron to check on something."

The Dancing Siren

(**Author's note**: please read "A Streak of Sun" before continuing with this part of the story)

Perigee's rounds started at 03:00 and did not stop until 22:00. The two hour break allotted her was barely enough time to rest and take a little snack. Sometimes she'd review patient charts while she ingested her tasteless rations. On her list of rounds, a total of eighteen patients lay in stasis lock. Two days ago, that list held twenty-three. The deceased slipped through her fingers like sand. The death rate and suffering ate away at her like a chronic rust infection. Perigee functioned on emotional and mental fumes.

No one said why the fleet had not moved out of the asteroid in a week. She wasn't sure if she cared. Her patients didn't care.

Among the worst was Sunstreaker. He used to come to medlab on occasion with a dent or two and shamelessly flirt with her. Now the same mech lay bound to the flat, his optics lost to the edges of pain and despair. Perigee visited Sunny first and again during the middle of her rounds and at the end of her twenty-two hour shift. No change. No change.

At least yesterday. Today he watched her movements. She spoke, telling him of the latest gossip, news from the Vertical Horizon and whatever she heard of Rodimus' activities.

"...why bother so much?"

At first Perigee wasn't sure she heard.

"You're so stupid, pretending you can save the world with a smile."

She turned, smile intact. "Oh, you _did_ say something! Hello there!"

His faceplate moved but he said nothing else at first. Sunny's optics dimmed as he turned his head from her to the ceiling. "Cut the happy crap, Perigee. It's irritating."

"Well! Aren't you joy wrapped in a package. "The femme tried not to glare when Sunstreaker grunted. "I'll notify your brother as soon as I finish your progress chart."

Silence expanded between them. Sunstreaker tried to move his right foot. It moved, but the bearings ached; far from a smooth motion. He hated his body. "Progress, my slagged aft," he snarled at the last. "And I don't want to speak to Sideswipe."

"He'll want to speak to you, Sunny," Perigee did not look up from her digipad. "Besides, he'll kick my aft into next week if I don't tell him."

"It's not about you," Sunstreaker answered softly. "I don't want to talk to him. I don't want anybody to look at the new freak."

She scowled. "You're not a freak, Sunny."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "you _have to_ say that. You helped put me here! Couldn't you have done a better job? Given me something that looked like a Transformer? Huh? You mock me, bitch!"

"That's enough, Sunstreaker!" Perigee answered firmly.

"THAT'S ENOUGH?" he shouted at the top of his vocalizer, "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT'S ENOUGH, BITCH! I'M LYING HERE LIKE A DISCARDED GARBAGE DISPOSAL! GET THE SMELT AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Sunstreaker bucked and jerked. Perigee prepared another hypo while security guard Epsilon Di stepped through the open doorway.

"Is everything okay?"

"Nope," Perigee all but sang. She aimed the laser injection at Sunstreaker's chin when his jittering body dropped quiet. She hesitated, uncertain. She counted to three when his optics shut off. The life signs monitor toned as all graph lines dropped. Perigee swore and patched into First Aid.

"I need help! Sunstreaker has flat lined!"

The Crested Moon

Rusti borrowed a sweater and jacket from Captain Littlefield. The Sunset Kummya's captain had a slightly larger build and her jacket wore dust and grease and bloodstains. But a jacket was a jacket. The last person she borrowed the brown jacket from died that morning and to honor her death, Rusti gave it to the officer's closest friend.

"You look good in uniform." Optimus observed.

The young lady grinned as she latched on a thigh halter bearing a scanner and small data tablet. "You're killing me, Optimus."

He silently laid in front of her and took her hand with his finger. "I am leery of you going there. We're still waiting-"

"Optimus, you're coming too."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know. But between you and Galvatron and Roddi, I'll be just fine." she studied his optics and found concern there. "What is it, really? You're edgy."

"Sunstreaker. He's not well."

"Perhaps you should visit him."

"There's nothing I can do for him, Rusti. He's losing his mind."

"What about the alien ship? Was there anything on there that was useful?"

"Not for us, no. The life forms were apparently silicon-organic."

She blinked and thought it through. "Kinda like your morphobot pet plants?"

"Shh! That's still a secret."

Rusti laughed. "Okay."

Cloudstreaker piloted the shuttle off the Hannibal's Mark to the derelict ship. Rodimus sat beside her at navigation and made funny noises for each button he pressed. He glanced sidelong at the shy femme and smiled. She tried to keep a straight face and barely succeeded.

Roddi sat back and left the driving to her. But after two point nine minutes, he swerved his seat so that he faced her. Cloudstreaker dithered slightly under his scrutiny. Easy prey. "So!" he exploded in an easy-going voice. "Come here, do this often?"

She skirted a glance at him. "Sir?"

"Shuttle craft." he answered. "You know; bussing people to Point B and back?"

"Uhhhh..."

"I said 'bussing', not 'bossing."

"W-well, not normally-"

"Right! Cuz you're usually the bus yourself... so to speak."

"Hu?" confused, she gave him a little more attention.

Rodimus let loose a short laugh. "You talk too much, Cloudstreaker. Honestly, I can't get a word in to save my sanity." Rodimus got his reward. She smiled fully and relaxed.

Cloudstreaker nodded, understanding that he was messing with her. "I guess I'm worried about Arcee, Sir."

"Oh yeah? What of her? Is she in medbay?"

"Med-? No. No. It's Daniel Witwicky."

Rodimus set an elbow on the navigation consol and rested his head against his hand. "Oh yeah? She misses him?"

Cloudstreaker quietly huffed and shook her head. "No, Sir. He won't leave her alone. Don't tell her I said anything. She's... I'm worried about her."

"Oh yeah? Why so?"

"He has a knack for finding whatever digipad or tablet she's currently using and sends her nasty messages. She tries to erase them, avoids opening them. But..." Cloudstreaker shook her head and shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, I've helped her a time or two-"

Rodimus did not like what he was hearing. They already severely restricted Daniel from social activities. He'd almost hate to take electronic communication away from the bastard. But if Dan-o can't play nice...

"It's just that Daniel Witwicky is resourceful, I guess."

"Too resourceful, from the sound of it, Cloudstreaker." Roddi concurred irritably. "What exactly did you do to help out?"

Cloudstreaker stared straight ahead, clearly nervous. "I... well, I mean, it only worked for a while, long enough for him to find another digipad-"

"What did you do, Lieutenant?" Rodimus sat up, suspicious.

"I... I set up a virus that recognized only Daniel Witwicky's personal codes so that when he used more than one foul word, the digipad or data tablet would explode in his hands. Well, not really so much explode like a bomb, since the tablets aren't designed-and I know I'm going to be reprimanded for planting a virus, but I was only trying to protect Arcee-"

Rodimus crossed his arms and bore holes into her with his optics. "Cloudstreaker," he said firmly.

She winced, knowing her confession landed her in serious trouble. "Aye, Sir."

"Can I have your autograph?"

An hour later Cloudstreaker smoothly tucked the shuttle into the alien craft's docking bay. Rodimus gave her all the scanning readouts and she expertly guided the aircraft in with no visuals.

"Niiice!" Roddi praised. She smiled, grateful for the praise. Rodimus stood while the crew of seven gathered their equipment and prepared to board the ship. "Oky dokey, everybunny, listen up! Pairs of two. 'Cept Galvatron. He can go alone-and first- so if we hear him scream like a little girl, we'll know there's something dangerous on the ship."

Rusti turned shocked and annoyed. "Rodimus!"

Galvatron behind her double checked his weapon. "Not to worry, Mizz Rusti. I can take the abuse-"

She turned to the Decepticon, "Don't interrupt me when I'm defending you!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And you're with me."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Wait a minute!" Rodimus objected. "You're leaving me alone with Optimus?"

Rusti nailed him with hard grey eyes, "No. You can wait in the car."

She led Galvatron off the shuttle craft and Rodimus looked to Prime. "What are you laughing at?" Roddi sharply asked.

Optimus nodded toward the exit. "Game of wits with a twenty-one year old. You lost."

Rodimus and Optimus traveled with Cloudstreaker while Highbrow and Pontiac from the Hannibal's Mark headed for the bridge.

Rusti did not need a guide to point her to the bridge. She treaded long corridors utilizing her exosuite's scanners to guide the way. The ship's interior spoke of disuse, slightly frosted by the temperatures in space. Rusti paused a moment and closed her eyes. The ship felt old, as though it floated through space for ages uncounted. Yet the vessel's physic bespoke of a well-preserved piece of equipment. She touched the wall to her right. Images and equations shot through her head and Rusti blinked twice before pulling away. She could not describe to herself exactly what it was.

"There are laser burns along these walls," Rodimus observed. "But I don't recognize the power signatures."

His remark brought Rusti back to the moment. She stepped aside when Cloudstreaker approached and took a reading. The femme shook her head. "I don't... I don't quite know..." She did not shy away when Galvatron leaned over and read her findings.

"Tri-polar electromagnetism."

Cloudstreaker studied the Decepticon's optics. "How's that possible? Electromagnetism only has plus-minus."

"An additional _inverted_ proton can be used. But it's temperamental. I have no idea what kind of weapon this is."

Rusti ignored the ensuing conversation. She heard Optimus and Roddi mention how that finding was not in the report. Someone's head was going to roll over that one, the young lady mused. She continued down the hall, knowing the party of 'adults' did not need her useless input. Rusti dragged her hand along the metal wall, hoping the ship sooner or later might notice she was trying to establish contact.

_Zeta-trilithium charging boosters._

Rusti paused and lightly tapped her fingers on the wall, waiting. The bridge lay just around the corner. The landing party still conversed eight yards down the hall.

_Galvanized titanium outer plating reinforced with braided isotopes..._

Static disrupted Rusti's connection and she flinched. Her eyes climbed the wall before her. Metal fatigue revealed itself in the patches of rust; a reaction to the deep freezing temperatures. The lack of light forced her to rely more on her helmet's scanners than her own eyes and Rusti wished she could see better. She switched scanners two then three times before realizing her readings shifted between frequencies.

"I think I found something here," she called to her companions. She stepped back as they broke up their conversation and approached.

Cloudstreaker scanned the wall. "I don't read-wait a minute." she lifted her arm higher and the scanner blinked with enthusiasm.

Rodimus came to the forefront and dug his fingers into the panel seams. He tugged and grunted and tugged further while everyone else stood back and watched. He released the panel, took a step in reverse and shot the seam with a low setting from his arm weapons. The plating cracked in a spider-web fashion. Flakes of metal _plinked _and shattered as they hit the floor. Rodimus tackled the panel again and this time it fell to pieces under his grip. He shot out of the way as a body crashed on the floor like a slab of petrified wood.

Rusti swallowed her scream and flinched. Cloudstreaker cast a light on the frozen figure and revealed an alien with a sad and frightened expression. His huge hazel eyes stared into nothing. His thin lips drew tight with fear. He clutched a bronze cylinder in his arms. Bandages wrapped his left arm and his clothing offered clues of a fight his crew did not win.

Rusti could not look away. The image disturbed her in ways she could not describe. A presence tugged the young lady's senses and Rusti listened in while Cloudstreaker deduced the cylinder contained data crystals and chances were, she could play and translate them on the ship's bridge. Rusti searched the dark and the ship, tuning out dialog and working hard to decipher the ship's alien dialect.

"_Out from the air. Out from the air. Crew died first. Terrible fight. Life support systems collapse. Call for help! Call for help!" _

Rusti mentally pulled away. "Optimus, the ship's name is the Imperium. It says the invaders, or pirates, phased onto the ship from nowhere. They attacked the crew first then the passengers and eliminated all life support systems. The ship doesn't know why the pirates only took the crew and passengers."

Rodimus nodded. "Well, that's a good start. Shall we find the bridge?"

Rusti overheard Optimus communicate with Highbrow and Pontiac through general comline channels. They confirmed all was well but found body parts strewn across the flooring. Some sort of iced goo frosted the safety rails and stairs leading to the engine core-or the _doohicky_ that contained the engine core. They promised there was a good chance the ship's engines might still work.

Rodimus and Cloudstreaker led the team forward. The corridor wound into an open room furnished with computer consoles, chairs and three decomposed bodies. Cloudstreaker immediately took the seat in front of the navigation panels. She wiped iced dust off the board and scrutinized the controls. In three switches, she powered on the lights and most computerized equipment.

"Nicely done!" Rodimus praised. "What TV channels does this thing get?"

Rusti could not help herself: "PBS, Rodimus. All of them. And they're playing Antiques Roadshow."

Rodimus didn't skip a beat, "Well! Kup, Optimus and Magnus should enjoy that. They're all older than most of the stuff shown anyway-"

"I got something!" Cloudstreaker declared. She took a data crystal and slipped it into the navigation board. Tweaking the controls, she televised the picture of an alien sitting in a chair, talking.

Roddi approached the consol, smirking. "What's that, Cloudstreaker? This guy doesn't speak either English or Autobot?"

Rusti half listened to Rodimus, half to the ship. The Imperium complained of disjointed and unbalanced equipment. A constant ache in the lower decks radiated from a foreign source along the starboard bulkheads.

"_We... all of us... landed..."_

Rusti, Galvatron and Optimus watched the main viewer while Cloudstreaker worked to translate the alien language. Optimus turned away and contacted Highbrow for a status report. Galvatron examined the weapons and security consol at the left side of the bridge.

"_We...all of us... landed... tried...psychic assault..."_

That got everyone's attention. Rusti's eyes shot wide and she wondered if that's what the Imperium meant.

A soft thrum vibrated through the Imperium and all the bridge's lights and control panels came to life. Rodimus praised Pontiac and Highbrow for good work then turned back to Cloudstreaker.

The ship's main comline bleeped Pontiac's voice wavered with fear. "Optimus?"

"This is Prime," Optimus automatically answered.

"Sir, we need to get off this ship and as far away from here as possible. Immediately."

Rusti thought about the warning. "They planted something here," she deduced.

Rodimus gave Optimus a puzzled look. Optimus stared at the screen as Cloudstreaker waited for the computer to complete the language compilation. "What is it?"

"A gravitational singularity signature, sir the seed of a black hole. We don't know its exact location, but we're getting feedback responses from it."

"Evacuate the ship," Optimus ordered.

"Wait!" Cloudstreaker cried out. "I got it!

"_I, Captain Igduthannal, warn all people who board my ship. Turn the power off. Go back the way you came and never return or attempt to save us. We have seen the face of the devil. We are, all of us, regretful. We landed in the quiet of Hell. We lost many friends when we tried to escape. But the place was haunted and we suffered sore distress from psychic assault. Go back. Go back now and never return this way again._"

Rodimus flipped off the video. "Okay, you heard the guy. Let's make like a bird-" he stood straight and answered an internal call from his ship, the Gabriel Genesis. "Roddi!" he sang.

As Rodimus listened in, Optimus and Galvatron crossed optics and inched toward the exit.

Rusti wanted to pretend she did not know the ship's pain spread further and more quickly. Optimus scooped her off the floor and they headed to the shuttle. The other two members of their team met them there.

Pontiac packed six crystals into his containment box and nodded to Rodimus. "We shut everything down, Sir. But it's not stopping."

Rodimus nodded. Cloudstreaker boarded the shuttle first. Rodimus climbed the plank while Galvatron stood behind Optimus.

A deep cold tugged at Rusti's spine. She breathed in the dark. Her vision tunneled and Cloudstreaker screamed.

To Be continued.

330


End file.
